Cyber Saints
by PurpleandProudest
Summary: Matt Miller never thought his life would end up like this. Can the former King of the Deckers and the Boss of the saints really be developing feelings for each other? A female boss, Matt Miller pairing.
1. Withdrawal

Withdrawal. Limbs twitched spasmodically. Sweat permeated the dream world; soaked sheets became as commonplace as the sunrise. Boredom turned his days into open chasms. The world was awash in iridescent blue screens which pleaded for his attention. Matt Miller was drowning in technological withdrawal.

England was much the same as he had left it, but he felt a different man. Matt stared at himself in the mirror as the sound of tap water filled his small bathroom. Vacant blue eyes looked back at him.

He was a world away from the Matt Miller that had proved himself in Steelport. The King of the Deckers, the Cyber God. At the helm of the Deckers, Matt had used his genius to shape the world around him.

Matt put his lips to the glass he had filled up and drank deeply. Out of habit, he rubbed his thumb across the rim as he set it down. It was a trick he had learned to avoid staining the glass with his vivid blue lipstick. Belatedly, he realized that wasn't a problem anymore.

He hadn't worn any in months.

Matt eased his lithe frame down into a couch, his eyes moving to the ceiling. It was late; street light threw odd patterns and shapes through his loft windows, even three stories up. He watched the light display as cars passed below.

If Matt Miller had been the King of the Deckers, he owed the loss of his crown to one woman: Rain, the Boss of the Saints. Images flashed into his mind without being called forward. The cyber world stretched before him as his kingdom. Young men and women bowed before his throne, donning his peculiar fashion sense and going forth in his name. He could have brought the world to his knees, basking in electric blue light.

Their plan had been foolproof. First, bring down the Third Street Saints. Humble their leader. Next, step into the vacuum of power left in the gang's wake.

But even in his memory, Rain had her way. She had been like a computer virus. Matt had programmed many in his time. It was easy, like falling asleep.

All it required was an intuitive knowledge of the program. Viruses were not malicious, as many thought of them. They ran without prejudice, executing their function exactly as they were programmed to. Protection could be put in place to minimize the damage done to the operating software, but the virus could often reassemble itself from the tiniest existing piece. Viruses could be quarantined, but nobody built viruses like Matt.

Rain was a virus. No plan could stop her. When Phillipe Loren and the Syndicate had killed one of her lieutenants, ruined the gang's reputation and disassembled her assets, she had not died. She smashed through their leader and wrestled back her assets, one by one. No firewall could be put up that kept her down; no quarantine could keep her at bay.

After the Syndicate's plans had dissolved, Matt had been left with absolutely nothing. Returning to England had seemed the only logical choice. Swearing off technology had been the next step. What was left for him in his ruins of a kingdom? But the Saints, on the other hand, had rocketed back to stardom. He listened to the rumors of their supremacy with more interest than he would like to admit.

They had reformed their policies, gaining clarity and focus of purpose. Like that boring novel in school that he had barely read, the Scarlet Letter, the gang's notoriety was once more embraced. People began to refer to their name, the Saints, as if they truly were that.

Matt flicked on the television, flooding his apartment with incandescent light. The news was on. He absently listened to the droning cadence of the broadcaster.

"_-it looks like it is a dog eat dog world after all, Tony. In other news, the most popular baby names of 2012 are in! Preschool teachers agree: there are more Rains in the classroom than any other girl's name. For boys, it's the tried and true names that are holding firm: John. Back to you, Jane."_

The television remote hit the loft wall hard.

"That does it," Matt hissed. "You get children named after you, and what do I get? Fat load of rubbish." Miller leapt up and passed through the tiny bedroom adjacent to his living room. His closet door swung open, revealing a set of perfectly bland outfits hanging in a neat row. He shoved them aside, searching with his hands until he felt the old, familiar leather.

He shrugged into the jacket and sighed under its pleasant weight. He travelled to the bathroom as he slung a blue tie over his neck. Matt opened the medicine cabinet and spotted his former trademark makeup.

He knew just how to handle things tonight. No more lying around feeling sorry for himself. He would cope with his depression the normal way. Matt Miller was going to go on a bender.


	2. Twelve Steps

Chapter 2, 12 Steps

Matt careened down the street, lit dimly by evenly spaced pools from lamps. Neon signs cast a lurid glow over the concrete. Miller was feeling good for the first time in months. Though the young man was not yet of drinking age, he had easily convinced some of his former LAN party cronies to fork over a few bottles.

He stumbled into several passersby, still nursing the last of the ill gotten bottles in the crook of his arm. He had managed to forget entirely about his recent troubles and fancied himself in the virtual world he had once reigned.

Just then, he passed by a tall building adorned with Gothic spires. A humble sign beckoned with the words "12 Step Program". A perverse giggle bubbled out through Miller's freshly painted lips as an odd idea struck him.

His mother, when he still associated with her, had been a notorious drunk. His childhood was studded with incidents that would have humiliated any mother, but had only driven him to apathy. Nothing would make him feel better tonight than hearing others complain about their own misery.

The inside of the church was tastefully decorated in the same Gothic style. Gleaming floors led to a room with a high ceiling. Inside was a small half moon of chairs. People of various ages slouched in them, staring at their feet or at the wall. The meeting had already started, but no one took more notice of him than to nod in his general direction.

Miller could not help but grin sardonically as he sat in an empty seat. He had seen his mother fail out of more rehabilitation programs than he cared to remember. If there was anyone worse off than him, it was these wastes of space.

Matt was barely able to keep the smug rapture off his face as he listened to how "Peggy" had relapsed after three months of sobriety. He fought to contain giggles when "Daniel" broke down and wept over how his wife and child had left him. Odd, Matt thought to himself. He had never considered himself a masochist before. Perhaps it was the booze.

"What about you?" A voice interrupted his amused reflections.

"Hmm?" Miller teetered.

"What's your name son?" A middle aged balding man who sat beside him leaned over towards him Matt vaguely remembered, from listening, that his name was Ted.

"Ah!" Matt coughed excitedly, trying to contain his merriment, and of course how loaded he was. "Matt."

The man who had asked his name leaned backwards again, catching the smell of alcohol on Miller's breath. Despite this, he continued. "What brings you here today, Matt?"

"Oh you know, the same as everyone else, I 'spose." Matt said rather unconvincingly.

Ted looked at him intently for a moment. Miller brought a hand up to scratch his neck where his leather jacket poked him. "You have a problem, son." Ted concluded.

The bluntness of the statement caught Matt off guard and for a moment he dropped his pretense of sincerity. "A problem?" He retorted back, a defensive note creeping into his voice.

"Yes, Matt. That's why we're all here. We've all got a problem." The bald man said matter-of-factly. "So why don't you tell us about it?"

Miller twitched in his chair, his merriment quickly disappearing like water through a drain. The others in the room were looking up at him, waiting patiently. Matt let out a sigh that was one part reluctance and the other part boredom.

"Fine. My name is Matt. I have a problem." Miller rattled off the familiar line that he had heard his mother say at least a hundred times. But as soon as he spoke them, they took on a new meaning.

"I have a problem," he repeated. "I used to be in a position of power. I had everything figured out. I had.. friends," he chose his words carefully. "Someone took it away from me. Now I don't have any of those things. I'm reduced to live in a hovel, a fraction of my former glory."

"Alcohol will do that to you, son." Ted offered sympathetically when it looked like Matt could go no further. "The first of the 12 Steps is to admit that we are powerless over our addiction. Your life has become unmanageable."

".. Yes, _alcohol _has taken those things from me." Matt said sarcastically, a sudden surge of hate for his current condition surging into him and infusing the word with bile. Of course, he was not speaking of alcohol. He had Rain, the leader of the Third Street Saints, in mind.

"Step five. Admit to yourself and others the exact nature of your wrongs. Alcohol may be a cruel mistress, but you made your own decisions. She doesn't make you do anything." Ted said perfunctorily.

And just like that, the mirth that had caused Matt Miller to enter the church, on a whim, was gone. A dull pain in his hands caused him to look down and it was with surprise that he found he was clutching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his flesh.

"Would you like to know the rest of the steps, son?" Ted's voice broke through Matt's thoughts. He was surprised to find his head nodding, his dark hair falling over his eyes.

It seemed like hours later that a mentally exhausted Matt Miller exited into the cool night air. He clutched a pamphlet that he was sure they gave every addict that walked through the door. His steps were sobered by the thoughts he picked over deliberately in his head. The walk back to his flat was completed in pensive silence.

He climbed the flights of stairs to his door and slid his key into the lock. That was certainly not how he had imagined the night would go. His thoughts were divided between dismissing the incident as ridiculous and sitting down and having a long cup of tea while he milled it over.

"Hello, what's this?" He asked no one in particular as his foot slid over something laying on the floor as he entered the flat. He bent down, his hands feeling blindly in the dark. The unmistakable feeling of paper greeted him. Matt reached up and flicked on the lights.

A letter looked purposefully up at him. Dark, bold text bearing the name "Matt Miller" were the only words on it. No stamp or address. Someone had delivered this by hand and had entered his apartment to do so. He flicked the envelope open with great interest and unfolded its contents.

The words "MI6" and "appointment" flashed through his mind over and over again as he devoured the letter's meaning.

"Step 2: Believe that a higher power greater than yourself can restore you to your sanity." Matt found himself saying, and a jovial chuckle escaped his lips.


	3. MI6

MI6 had not been joking. "Don't worry. You'll hit the ground running." They had said.

His first day working for the Secret Intelligence Service, more commonly known as MI6, someone had sat him in front of a highly sophisticated networking computer. Multiple screens rose before him, their surfaces slick and bare. A head set lay on the table. Matt was told to connect to it.

He explored the software with a cursory glance. He recognized its make-up at once. It was nearly identical to the support program he had used to communicate with the Syndicate during operations.

His fingers slid over the headset and a shudder of pleasure raced through him. He had just begun to get over the shock of abstaining from technology. The prospect of working for MI6 had been too tempting, though.

Matt's heartbeat quickened and in a moment he had forgotten his neo luddism vows and donned the headset.

"Agent Miller," a cool, British accent greeted him from the other line. The bank of screens lit up, each showing a different angle of the same scene: a sparse desert landscape, a camera set in what he assumed was a helmet, the sleek black clad figure of a woman in a tech vest. "The name is Asha. Pleasure to meet you." The feminine voice clicked across the line as if she had been in the room.

Working as Asha Odekar's handler was a challenge that reinvigorated Matt. Each day brought a fresh mission. Together they worked highly dangerous, highly sensitive, and highly classified operations. He inwardly rejoiced at the opportunity to contribute to the success of the mission.

In the Syndicate, Matt's genius had been needed, true. But, the Sword of Damacles had practically hung over his head the entire time. He was never quite sure whether the end of the day would find him victorious or dead by Killbane's hands.

In the MI6, it was different. Asha, a solemn woman nearly twice his age, freely gave her approval. It was not uncommon that she would reward him with a six pack of his favorite energy drink after a long day in the field with Miller as her only life line. It was cleansing to have his talent recognized and celebrated.

The skill of the hacker was immediately apparent to all. That was not terribly surprising, seeing that it had been the reason for his recruitment. The team soon garnered praise from the highest areas of MI6.

It was this unparalleled acumen that caused that fateful mission to fall into his lap. As Matt sat through the briefing, he could not believe his ears.

It was to be a joint operation between the United States and MI6. A former high ranking officer in the United States had defected and was leading a terrorist cell in the desert.

Matt read over the dossier before him, flipping through the many black and white pictures. He recognized one immediately. Cyrus Temple, the former commander of STAG. An odd smile flitted over Miller's lips as he recalled how Cyrus had been a strange ally in their fight against the Saints. Now he had gone and turned terrorist. How quaint.

"Bollucks," Matt suddenly said. Asha and the man conducting the briefing paused to look at him. Matt's finger was resting purposely on the glossy photograph of the woman he knew to be the leader of the Saints, Rain. "We're cooperating with the Saints? The street gang? You can't be serious." Miller explained, his voice dripping with astonishment.

"It seems the U.S. of A thinks the same as our England," Asha said, her brow furrowing in amusement as she looked pointedly at Matt. "You had a stint in a gang too, if I recall from reading your dossier."

Matt jerked his head aside in annoyance and shoved his hands into his deep pockets. "I _led_ a gang. But that's beside the point. The Saints are led by a sociopath. This woman," he pointed vehemently at the photograph of Rain. "She is practically one flew over the cuckoo's nest."

"Really?" Asha's eyes lit up. She came to stand behind Miller and peered at the photograph over his shoulder. "That should make things interesting. She is the lead operative working with me."

Matt steeled himself as he plugged in to the communication software. He had replaced the ungainly headset with a wireless Bluetooth by now. The young man closed his eyes to quiet his mind. He pictured before him his virtual world, alight with blue EL wires. A steady electronic beat filtered through his thoughts.

When he opened his eyes again, a strange sight appeared before him. Asha took up several of the screens, as usual. That was nothing new. Front and center, though, occupying a prominent position in the bank of screens, stood three members of the Saints. He picked out the two lieutenants easily, though Matt could not recall their names. The third, who he could only assume was Rain, was covered head to toe in tactical armor.

He had not seen her in months, not since Steelport. In fact, he had never seen her in person at all. In all of their encounters, he had only viewed her through screens and his virtual construction. Underneath the tactical armor, he could distinctly make out the corded muscles of the leader of the Saints. Her shape was decidedly feminine, even under the layer of protective gear. He had somehow failed to notice that in the weeks of Steelport. The realization brought him no pleasure.

Time to focus. The group cut through the terrorist cell as a lawnmower might through the yard. Matt monitored the group's vital and equipment statistics. Rain's microphone appeared to be malfunctioning, but all else was stable. They moved with precision. Deliberate, deadly action. The distinct pop of bullets filled Matt's ears. The masked Rain moved with fluid grace, sinuously attacking and feinting.

He picked out Kenzi's voice as she directed the Saints. _Still slumming, Agent Kenzington? _Matt thought mockingly. A special place of scorn was held in his heart for the former FBI agent that he had disgraced in his efforts to rise to the top of the hacking world. He held no ill will for her, though, despite the fact that she had been instrumental in his own fall from the throne of the Deckers.

He listened to her guide the saints with amusement. Belatedly, Matt realized he had not revealed himself to the group yet. Hesitant as to how they would react, he chimed in at last.

"Is that **Matt Miller?**" Kenzi barked, her irritation audible. His lips twisted into a rueful smile as he recalled his own emotions when he had discovered much the same information in the briefing. Perhaps they weren't so different after all.

Asha was quick to defend his status in the MI6, but the Boss' thoughts would remain a mystery until her microphone began working.

The team made short work of the compound defenses. The infiltration was far from subtle, but it was extremely effective.

Cyrus Temple was a shell of a man. The group gunned him down with ease. It was almost sad to see the former commander of STAG fall. Almost.

Unfortunately, that shell of a man had made backup plans. In his dying moments, Cyrus made sure that his work would be finished without him. A low growl split the air and a nuclear bomb the size of a handicapped bus began to launch. Swears from the group sounded through Matt's Bluetooth. He echoed them vehemently. Judging from the monitors, that bomb was large enough to destroy all of Virginia. The nuclear fallout would make the continent a wasteland and poison the oceans. The entire world would be affected.

He sat back in his chair. _So that's it then,_ he thought. _MI6 is sure to sack me now. Perfectly good job gone to waste. _

What happened next changed his entire opinion of Rain, leader of the Third Street Saints and acted as a catalyst to his shifting views on life.

Stepping apart from the group, Rain took a great running leap and latched onto the nuclear bomb just beginning to lift off.

"One flew over the cuckoo," he heard Asha say, awe in her voice as the entire group watched in confusion and growing dread. Whatever else the group was feeling was drowned out as the low growl of the bomb turned to a deafening roar and shot upward, out of sight, carrying Rain with it.

"Don't you guys get it? She's sacrificing herself. Now is your chance to say goodbye!" Kenzi could at last be heard.

Could it be true? Miller had always considered the leader of the saints a textbook example of sociopathy. And, yet, would she really give her life up to diffuse the bomb? A strange feeling invaded his gut. He was having a great deal of trouble connecting describable thoughts to what he was seeing.

Though the others had lost sight of her minutes ago, he and Kenzi were afforded the peculiar image of watching Rain through her helmet camera, clinging desperately to the rocket. He barely heard the others taking their last chance to tell the woman how they felt.

The odd sensation in his stomach intensified as he watched the screen. It was like viewing some episode of Nyteblade, mechanical and, yet, impassioned. Rain was scrambling across the surface of the bomb, ripping off metal plates and wires, dodging debris and clutching at the slick metal surface for dear life.

"If I had known you would be willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the world.. I probably would not have tried to kill you." He found himself saying out loud with more than a bit of shock. Rain gave no indication that she had heard him over the roar of the bomb and continued her desperate work.

Was it possible that the leader of the Saints could succeed? Miller had to consider it at least feasible. Viola had once told him of Rain's escape from the plane crash that had started the Syndicate on their war path. At the time, he had thought Viola mistaken. But now, watching the Boss work, he began to think anything was possible.

_Bloody hell, _he conceded as she ripped out the last of the control wires to the bomb and abandoned her perch, falling away. _The woman has done it. _The bomb's now useless shell continued its descent and Rain flashed a triumphant gesture towards Matt's screen.

Though the bomb had been rendered impotent, the fallout had already begun. The world, Matt's world, would not be the same again.


	4. Fallout

Time seemed to have taken off with the nuclear bomb, rocketing away from Matt Miller. Five years passed in what seemed like a waking dream. His days were filled with work at the MI6. His nights were spent hunched over his computer, tracking down leads and intelligence, watching Nyteblade and creating training programs for Asha. In return, MI6 offered him amnesty, protection from any who might seek his life for his time spent in Steelport.

Asha took him under her wing after the averted nuclear disaster. Like any military organization, MI6 had its physical standards for agents and handlers. At regular intervals throughout the week, Asha would drag him away from his work station to the exercise facilities.

At first, Matt found the activity nearly intolerable. The discomfort caused by sweating and rigorous movements always put him in a foul mood. His complaints fell on deaf ears; it would have been easier to convince a brick wall than the stolid Asha. Although he never enjoyed the workouts the way that she did, Matt eventually learned to look at them with indifference, like one regards a daily commute to work.

As time went by, Miller began to leave behind the ungainly body of his teenage years. His chest and arms thickened with muscle. His legs, which had always been short and wiry, grew several inches longer and began to stretch the close fitted jeans that he wore. He was still no body builder, but Matt Miller had filled out.

At times, his thoughts turned towards Steelport and the Saints. When they did, he inevitably thought of Rain. News of her continued success reached him often enough to make him wonder what the future held for her. After the nuclear bomb, the Saints, and their leader in particular, were elevated to the status of national heroes in many countries. Even in England, the television stations featured parades that filled entire city blocks with a sea of purple confetti. And so it was with growing surprise that Matt realized the well of bitterness towards her, that had been bottomless only years ago, was depleted.

It was during this time that he began to hear of Rain's campaign for President of the United States. Even being British, Matt knew enough about the American Constitution to know that a criminal under the age of 35 could never be considered at all, let alone as a serious candidate.

Nevertheless, like so many times before her, the woman defied all odds, no matter how insurmountable and absurd. A week after the Saints announced their campaign, an amendment was made to the Constitution to exempt all wartime heroes from political age of candidacy restrictions. Matt wondered whose wheels had to be greased to shove that amendment through.

Forsaking the bipartisan system of election, the Saints ran as their own party, selecting a prominent actor, Keith David, as Rain's running mate. Their platform highlighted the importance of civil rights, a more progressive incarceration and rehabilitation program and the legalization of many narcotics. This pill, too, the American public swallowed.

The Saints campaigned for months. Rain and David toured city after city. Wherever they travelled, the lieutenants and Viola threw lavish parties for supporters. Every aspect of social media became saturated with positive reviews of the Saints' contributions to society, thanks to Kenzi Kensington. Josh Berk even managed to work a Saints promotion into the arc of Nyte Blayde, featuring Franklyn Nyte doing his civic duty by casting a vote for the only candidate who understood "fighting true Darkness." Matt took special pleasure in this last advertising method.

Not everyone had drunk the purple Kool-Aid. Though Rain had a list of positive attributes, a diplomatic tongue was not one of them. Keith had more than a few fires to put out in small towns that often took offense to Rain's rough edges and criminal background.

The elections came at last. Matt followed the polls with growing interest and even excitement. The night that the electoral college turned in its votes was perhaps the strangest day on British television. Half of the news channels depicted America rioting and the other half celebrating over the victory of the newest President: Rain Franklin of the Saints.

A smile twisted Matt's lips upward when he heard the news.

That night, amongst a sea of texts and phone calls, the message "Cheers ;)" was sent to the new President's phone.

Life continued on as usual. While intelligence gathering, Matt began to find odd pieces of information. At first, he wasn't quite sure what to make of them. He frequently logged intelligence, no matter how unconnected, so that he could reference it in the future. As the months passed, he realized the seemingly random events that he had charted were connected in a vast, unbelievable web.

Published articles from astrologists and astronomers were flooding the web over strange signs in the heavens. Those he usually dismissed as crackpot theorists were ranting on the forums about a higher level of beings. Arms and Ammunition stores across the world had sales quadruple in the span of three months. Cryptographers were hired by the dozens in Botswana to interpret a series of radio waves received from outer space.

At first, Matt could not believe the implication the data made. He could scarcely vocalize it without feeling he should go over the data one more time. But as he ran the numbers again and again, he became more and more convinced.

Aliens were going to attack the earth.


	5. Hello, Incredulity

The trip across the pond to the United States was completed in tense silence.

After he was sure that his conclusion was only logical, given the data, he had brought the intelligence to Asha. She shared his original skepticism but, in time, she came to be more fiercely a proponent of the theory than he.

Matt was good at intelligence gathering, brilliant, in fact. He would pull information together like a spider threading individual strands of a web.

Asha was the kind of woman who saw, planned, and reacted. She was excellent at making readjustments and recalculations based on changes to a scenario. This was exactly the trait that made her unequalled as a field operative. In the field, it took her mere seconds to react to the most compromising of situations.

So when she came to share the opinion that extraterrestrial beings did, indeed, have designs to attack Earth, she immediately formulated a plan.

"Leave the talking to me, Matt."

A manila folder as thick as a small tree landed with a thud on the MI6 Deputy Director Shannon Tate's desk. The pencil thin eyebrows of the director raised and perfectly manicured nails thumbed through the report. Matt watched her with bated breath, knowing how the news must appear to an outside observer. To her credit, the Deputy Director managed to get five pages in before stopping.

"Is this some kind of joke, Agents Miller and Odekar?" Tate asked without a hint of amusement.

"We assure you it's not," Asha's voice was firm. She sat erect, her posture radiating confidence outward.

Deputy Director Tate looked past the two to the calendar adorning the office wall. "I suppose it is too much to hope that it is April." She commented dryly. Her graphite gray eyes moved back to the agents and a rather disappointed frown tugged her lips downward.

Tate swiveled in her chair to her computer and began pulling something up. Her keys clicked rhythmically.

Asha used the silence to push forward. "Agent Miller has checked the numbers a hundred times, Deputy Director. The conclusion is odd, I admit, but it is the only reasonable one to make. I, myself, have tracked down several leads in the astronomy department and all evidence seems to supp-"

"When was the last time you went on holiday, Agent Odekar?" Tate interrupted, her voice even and businesslike.

A small moment of hesitation followed. "I'm not quite sure, Deputy Director." Asha responded, quickly suppressing the look of confusion that flashed across her features.

"Four years, three months." Tate said, looking up from her computer screen.

"Four years, three months, Madame?" Odekar's voice was polite, but Miller picked up the minute change in her posture. He could see where this was going.

"Your last holiday was quite some time ago. I'm afraid we have been working the two of you very hard. Six assignments this month; that's double the normal case load."

"Madame?" The spy asked, keeping her voice neutral.

Deputy Director Tate folded her hands on top of the polished desk. "Why don't you go somewhere warm this year? Malaysia is surprisingly affordable during offseason. Have my secretary give you the name of the resort in which I stayed." She slid the manila folder back across the desk with one finger, stood, and opened the door for them to leave. It was abundantly clear that Tate was expressing, with some degree of diplomacy, that the theory was unsound. In the MI6, if your theories were not sound, you were not sound. A referral to psychiatry department could end in a demotion. Tate was giving the team a way out.

Asha's lips tightened into a fine line. She rose from her seat and nodded to the Deputy Director.

"With all due respect," Matt Miller began, without rising. Asha put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of the gesture was light, but it was a clear signal for silence. He disregarded it. "The evidence is quite clear. Isn't intelligence all about preparation—gaining the edge in the possibility of an attack? I know how this must sound, but the White House is the target of a direct alien attack! If we are still allies with the United States, we should warn them."

The Deputy Director tilted her head slightly, her features hardening. She held the door open wider, as if she had not heard him.

Asha quickly spoke. "Thank you for the suggestion, Madame. Matt and I will stop by your secretary to pick up that information." Her hand on Matt's shoulder tightened, causing immediate physical pain.

"What was _that _for?" Matt hissed, once out of range of the Deputy Director's office. He rubbed one hand on his shoulder, already sore.

"It was for your own good, Matt." Asha said evenly. Matt's irritation mounted; Asha had a tendency to treat him like the child whom she had met years ago. "Tate would have given us psych evaluations if we had gone any further with that report. But don't worry. I have a plan."

Miller continued to nurse where she had pinched him, scowling darkly. "Oh yeah, what's that? Troll the conspiracy forums until someone listens?"

"We're going to go on vacation-" The woman responded primly.

"Brilliant, just let me pop up to my loft for my trunks and beach jacket." Matt interrupted caustically. He was supremely irritated that his word had not been trusted. He was surer now than ever before that the data was irrefutable. What had they hired him for if not to trust what his mind could do?

"-to the United States. The White House, to be specific." Asha concluded at last, turning her green eyes to the side to measure his reaction.

"**WHAT?** Fat load of good that's going to do if they didn't even believe us here! The Saints loathe me! There's no way they would take my word for it. I can see it now.. '_Hey it's me, Matt Miller. You remember? The bloke who crashed your helicopter. The one who tried to kill you a few times. Oh by the way, aliens are going to invade and blow up your capitol. Right then, cheers!' _Brilliant."

"Matty. Go have an energy drink. The plane will be ready by tonight."

The trip across the pond to the United States was completed in tense silence.


	6. Isn't It Nice to be Right?

Seven hours. Matt's eyes were red from sleeping upright. Asha had insisted they ride coach to avoid traveling on MI6's dime, especially for this mission. The plane shook regularly. Wailing children prevented him from resting for more than a few minutes at a time. A nosy whelp sat to his right, turned fully sideways in his chair to better stare at Matt's clothing and electronic devices.

The briefcase with the "alien report" was tucked uncomfortably between his legs. He did not trust the bumbling staff of the airport to return it in one piece. Asha sat on the other side, looking perfectly composed and refreshed, despite the frequent turbulence.

As soon as the plane made its descent, he and Asha would begin their most difficult mission yet: convince the leader of the Saints.

Miller anticipated the conversation with dread. Asha, too, despite her calm demeanor, was not looking forward to it. When they had first met in the nuclear bomb mission five years ago, Asha had been indifferent to the Saints Boss. Rain's quirks puzzled Asha, but her skill with weapons neutralized any negative feelings she may have harbored for her.

That changed the day Rain Franklin became President of the United States of America.

Among many things, Asha was ruled by her patriotism and sense of duty. These, combined with her strong work ethic, meant that the spy clocked in more hours for Queen and country than any other agent in MI6.

Rain Franklin, by all accounts, was night to Asha's day. Since inauguration, President Franklin had turned the White House on its head. The normal heads of staff, veterans in their field who had taken half a lifetime to prove themselves, were summarily replaced by Rain's fellow gang members, pimps and madams. Rain was quickly moving towards taking more days on vacation than any president before her. Odd construction alteration requests were made for the White House and contracted to night club designers. Executive orders were doled out like candy.

Asha did not hide her disdain for the woman, especially after the spy had taken notice of Matt's growing interest in the President. Matt knew the woman to be keenly observant. So when Asha caught him, on multiple occasions reading articles or breaking into the President's encrypted online data, she began to suspect his budding affection for Rain even before Matt did. As any mother or older sister would, Asha exercised her dislike for the President by frequently critiquing the woman. Still, her sense of duty was too strong to prevent her from at least warning the woman about what Matt had found.

The captain's voice buzzed across the intercom, signaling the plane's descent into Washington D.C. Now that his meeting with Rain was finally approaching, Matt's exhaustion and irritation from the flight were slowly being replaced by a more ambiguous feeling.

Viola DeWynter sent a car for them at the airport. Since he had last seen her, Viola had become Head of the Federal Reserve.

"Matty!" She greeted them at the White House, giving him a warm smile. He returned the gesture with genuine sincerity, pressing the woman into an awkward hug.

Matt had never seen the capitol in person. He had only viewed the neatly manicured lawn, towering columns and stately gardens from pictures. To think that all of this might not be here soon if the attack wasn't stopped.. Now, walking side by side with Viola and Asha, he could not help but feel oddly incongruent with time. Viola was a walking link to his life in the Syndicate. They had worked together, trading barbs and quips under Killbane. Together they tore down an empire, however short lived. He had been fond of her as one is fond of a distant sibling who leaves for university. His work with Asha was of a different nature. They worked to dismantle enemies of another kind: terrorists, operatives and soldiers. The feeling of being together in the same place with both of them was odd. They made small talk as they walked.

The incongruity would not last. With her high position, Viola had several appointments to keep that afternoon, but kept the possibility open of catching up over lunch. She left them outside of the office of the Head of the Secret Service.

"Ready, Matt?" Asha asked, looking over at him. Miller took a dramatic breath, steeling himself, and nodded. The spy rapped on the door twice. The door immediately swung inward, revealing the head of the President's security.

Matt winced, his efforts to steel himself failing entirely. Since the mission five years ago, Matt had made a point to memorize the names of the prominent Saints. A handler was only as good as his information. "Sh-Shaundi," he coughed out.

"Miller. Odekar." Shaundi pronounced each name curtly, without ceremony. She had been expecting them since Asha had sent word of their flight. The woman had not changed much, physically, in the years since they had last seen each other. The hard lines of her face were set in a no-nonsense expression.

"We apologize for the short notice," Asha began. "We have some sensitive intelligence that must be discussed with the administration."

Shaundi opened her door wider to admit them. "Come in."

Shaundi's office was spartan and to the point. Bare walls greeted them on all sides. An uncluttered desk occupied the majority of the room along with a stern filing cabinet. Three straight backed chairs were placed in front of the desk. Everything was hard angles and painted an unapologetic shade of gun metal gray. The only remarkable piece in the room was the weapons cabinet that stretched across the back wall. Swords, arms and ammunition gleamed behind a sliding glass display. It was obvious from a mere cursory glance that they were not merely for show. Those weapons had been used and cared for methodically and meticulously.

Matt swallowed audibly as the three of them took a seat. "You want to explain to me what this is about?" Shaundi asked, leaning forward over the desk towards them.

"Look, there's no easy way to say this." Asha responded on cue. "We've done the research again and again. Aliens are going to attack the United States. The White House, in fact. We are unsure of when, but our sources indicate sooner rather than later. Our people in MI6 have not listened, so here we are."

Shaundi's brows furrowed and a thin sigh escaped her lips. "I was afraid of this."

The surprise that registered on the faces of Matt and Asha was visible. The spy's green eyes widened and Matt's jaw simply fell open. "Beg your pardon?" He stammered.

"Kenzi's been talking about it for months." She said neutrally in her American accent. "I had hoped she just needed a week or so off from that computer of hers. Hell." Shaundi rose, buttoning her jacket. "I'd better tell the President."

"When can we see her?" Matt asked, hopping up. The eagerness in his voice surprised him and he pretended to have a coughing fit to cover it up.

"Boss has a press conference in five. I'll talk to her before she goes on." Shaundi began walking towards the door, her steps purposeful. " _If _she wants to meet, I'll let you know. " The two watched her disappear down a long corridor.

"Well that went well." Asha commented, still shocked. They had expected, at best, a heated argument. Perhaps even a fight. Shaundi would have a few laughs, ridicule them and share the tale with the rest of the Saints. After the gang had all had a good laugh at their expense, if they were supremely fortunate, they might be able to present the evidence to the President. They certainly had not been expecting immediate and total acceptance.

While waiting for Shaundi to return, the pair explored the many halls of the White House. Adjacent to the office was a room with a placard titled "The Purple Room". Matt could only vaguely guess what its purpose was. A meeting room? Everything inside was various shades of purple. The space was lavishly decorated. Stately plum velvet couches fanned out to provide a viewing area around a polished stage. Matt thought it odd that a pole would be on the stage, but he made no comment. A life size painting of Saints Flow adorned the wall.

A second room, labeled "Genki's Gallery", sat opposite of the Purple Room. Several lanes formed a shooting range. There were still paper shooting targets hanging from one of the lanes. Matt grimly recognized the figures of Killbane and Phillipe Loren, whose images had been recreated and cut out into targets. Dozens of small holes peppered their vital organs. It was a small measure of comfort to see that his own image was absent from the carnage. At least, as far as he could tell.

Exploring the Saints' inner sanctum produced an odd feeling in Matt. When he was a very small boy, he had suffered from panic attacks. It is difficult to describe the sensation. The body reacts physically to stress, causing a tightening in the chest. Breathing is shortened and pain often stabs at the lungs. This had been a lifetime ago, however. He had long ago developed the cocksure attitude that he bore now, learning to rely on his unequalled intelligence, which so easily set him apart from his peers. But standing here, now, waiting to meet the President, an old familiar feeling began to creep into his body. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it was unnerving.

They were just starting down a hall lined with regal paintings of the Saints when the world turned upside down.

Suddenly, the sumptuous carpets and crown molded walls began to shake. The ear shattering screech of metal ripping asunder brought Matt to his knees. Shrieks of rage and terror bounced off the walls, followed by the percussive bark of gunfire.

"Matt!" Asha grabbed his shoulder, dropping into a protective crouch. "Get me some communication."

"On it!" Matt's fingers flew across the surface of the highly advanced computer strapped to his wrist. Hacking was impossibly easy for him. The action came as naturally as walking. When others were learning how to throw a ball, sprint at top speed, and jump rope, Matt was learning to bypass security systems and write coding. The activity momentarily prevented him from feeling the terror of the situation.

With ease, Matt slipped past the defenses surrounding the White House's computer network. Without effort, he located the President's communication line. "Patching you through," he said.

Smoke was beginning to spill into the hallway, turning the fluorescent lighting into pools of murky gray. Figures moved through the haze. Tall figures. Tall, impossibly large figures. Fear raced through Matt's veins.

The gunfire was coming closer. "Get over here," Asha barked into a communicator built into her watch. "You've got to see this."

Just then, one of the huge figures materialized out of the smoke. Matt's heart nearly stopped in his chest. The creature's proportions were inhumanly big. Dishwater splotchy skin stretched across a rounded skeletal system. Its face was dominated by wide set, spherical black eyes, an upturned hole of a nose and a mouth that stretched large enough to cause Matt concern that he might be eaten. "Definitely aliens!" Matt wheezed, the smoke straining his vocal chords. Asha released her grip from his shoulder and slipped away from his side.

His mind was screaming at him. _It has happened. The invasion has happened. My theory was right; of course it was right. Aren't I always right? If only those fools at MI6 had listened! Now I will die with all these Americans, crushed under the heel of these pig aliens. _

Suddenly the creature's head jerked at a sharp angle and its body collapsed to the floor. Asha, who had scrambled up onto its back to snap the creature's neck, disentangled herself from the corpse. "Right then!" She grinned. "That's not so bad!" Matt nearly fainted with relief.

A deafening ripping sound interrupted their victory. In one great motion, the ceiling above them was torn away. Bright light poured into the hall from above, blinding Asha and Matt. Then it was like someone had opened an airlock into space. An irresistible force yanked their feet off the floor and pulled them up towards the gaping hole in the ceiling.

"Asha!" Matt shrieked, clutching at anything within reach.

"Hold on to me Matt!" She ordered, latching onto his arm. The force continued to pull them upward. Upward. Upward..

The last thing Matt saw before he passed into the beam of light was a purple clad figure, rushing towards them. He had just enough time to conclude that it was Rain, leader of the Saints, before his consciousness fled from him.


	7. Pixel Prison

Strange sensations filtered through Matt Miller's consciousness. Discomfort. Pain. Temperature fluctuation. He had no sense of the passing of time. It could just as easily have been hours or weeks that he existed in this void between waking and sleeping. At last, tangible thoughts jabbed their way through the veil covering him.

_Where am I?__ Did the Saints slip something into my drink? __Why can't I feel anything?_

_Am I dead? __ Where is Asha? Who will save me now? __Not dead. Brain dead._

_Trapped. __There is no way out. __**This is forever. **__I'm lost. _

He began to perceive again. He was standing in a server room. All around him the sound of electronic equipment hummed. One of the racks was slightly askew, displaying the network of wires connecting to it. Lights buzzed at him, drawing him towards them like a moth.

Matt had been taking things apart since his fine motor skills developed. First children's toys, then remote controls, toasters, televisions, anything he could get his hands on. People were unpredictable and volatile. Mechanics and technology were the opposite. Connect the blue wire to the green wire. Unscrew the bolt. 0 is off, 1 is on. Technology was stable. Safe.

His fingers rested on the wires. The familiar plastic lining reassured him. A small red light indicating an error began to blink on the server. Matt frowned. The questions and fears that had screamed in his mind only moments ago had quieted to a whisper. He could fix this; he was compelled to.

Methodically, he checked the connection of cables and wires. He dissected the machine almost lovingly. "Here you are." Matt identified the error. A section of the server was putting off entirely too much heat.

Just as he brushed his fingers over the issue, something grabbed him. He looked down. Wires were snaking up his leg, constricting as they moved. Matt tried to brush them away but they kept climbing. His efforts to disentangle himself grew more frantic as the cables squeezed, creeping up his chest to his neck. Matt's fingers began tearing at the wires. Tighter and tighter they squeezed until his vision was a sea of liquid stars. Matt let out a silent scream. His airway closed. The thumping of his heart slowed.

Matt's eyes opened. The servers and strangling wires had vanished, leaving a bare room behind. A single door was the only way in or out. His head felt sluggish, causing his thoughts to be disconnected. Despite this, a nagging feeling lingered that something was terribly wrong.

"You have to get out." A voice that sounded strangely familiar said directly in his ear. Matt spun around, but the room was empty. He walked forward and turned the door knob. It was locked. A slot appeared in the door where a key hole would normally be. Odd, it had not been there a moment ago. He bent down to examine the opening and recognized it as a standard optical drive.

A small shaft of light came from the drive, like a movie projector. Matt peered through it. His blue eyes widened. He was looking into his loft living room. After he had gotten a job with MI6, he had moved uptown. Ratty furniture had been exchanged for more fashionable counterparts. It was this very upgraded apartment that Matt peered into.

Light from the flat screen television illumined the room. Two figures sat on the couch, their backs to him. He recognized himself as one of the pair. Nyte Blayde was playing. It was Matt's favorite episode, the one where The Bloody Canoness kills Marion.

Matt watched himself casually sling his arm around the second figure in such a way that appeared perfectly natural, like he had done it every day for a lifetime. Matt had never been good with women. He was awkward. His ego often prevented him from making meaningful connections. The superiority of his mind inevitably created an unequal partnership. The relationships he had had in the past fizzled without ever catching fire.

The second figure leaned her head in. Matt's laughter, genuine and mirthful, bubbled up out of him. As she turned for a kiss, he realized the face was strikingly familiar. He focused on it, trying to make out the features.

"Matt, you have to get out." That voice again! Matt snapped upright and whirled around. A pile of CDs as tall as a man had materialized in the room. Just what the hell was going on? What kind of place was he in that things could appear from nowhere?

"Use the key, Matt. You have to get out. Get **OUT!"** The familiar voice became more and more insistent, chanting the command like a litany. A thunderbolt of recognition struck him. Of course it was familiar. It was Matt's own voice.

The sound galvanized him. He grabbed a CD and slid it into the optical drive. The door spat it back out unceremoniously. "Tch, corrupted data." He noted, tossing it away and going back for another. He grabbed another and another. Each time the door spat it out, unable to read the CD. Matt tore through the pile, becoming increasingly desperate.

"Corrupt. Corrupt. Corrupt. Is **everything **in here corrupt? Gah!" The optical drive clicked as Matt inserted a disk. He paused, catching his breath. When he had gathered himself, he wrapped his hand around the door knob. It turned under his touch and he stepped inside the doorway.

The floor fell away from him into blackness.

Matt came to his senses in a dim room; the sole source of light was shed by a computer screen. The cursor flashed repetitively at the top right of the screen. A LINUX command prompt was pulled up. Relief coursed through him. If he could navigate the computer by inputting code, he may be able to find a way out of this insane place.

His fingers rested lightly on the keys and he began. He entered the first command.

**whoami**

To his delight, the computer responded.

_mattmiller_

Matt paused to think and queried the name of the software.

**Version**

_Zin Empire version 1.04.3324 build 7_

Zin Empire? What the hell was that? Matt's fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for answers and the purpose of the software.

**pwd**

_/etc/zinempire/_

**ls**

_./_

_../_

_specimen_containment_

_suppression_simulation_

_waste_disposal_

_feeding_schedule_

Specimen containment? Miller realized that they meant him. He was in a prison, then. The server room, the strangling cables, the locked door. It was all one big prison run by this "Zin Empire." The aliens? It wasn't very likely that someone else had imprisoned him after being sucked into a beam of light while alien invaders shot up the White House. The keys clicked furiously.

**whereis end_simulation**

_whereis: File not found_

**specimen_containment –OFF**

_specimen_containment: ERROR - ACCESS DENIED...Shutting down!_

Something had gone wrong. The computer screen's winked out. He was alone in complete darkness. Matt collapsed to his knees, uttering a wild cry of frustration. Was he to be trapped here forever? Matt could unravel the most advanced technological security systems known to man. His mind was bright enough to build a virtual world through the power of code and he possessed the creativity of a muse. Despite, this prison was defeating him. The man began to despair that he would die here alone. He buried his face in his hands.

The image of the couple on the couch arose again in his mind. Being with the woman had looked so easy, like drawing breath. There was true happiness in that image. Absent was the sarcasm, the clutter of ego. Just unfeigned, unadulterated joy.

He held on to that image and the despair that had been choking him slowly relaxed its grip. His thoughts ordered themselves.

A surety that he was on the right track began to crystallize in his mind. With each scenario the Zin simulation placed him in, Matt was reclaiming more and more of his sanity. Despite this, he had not discovered a way out.

He began to be aware of a murky light that rose before him. It grew gradually, revealing the outline of a person. The computer and room had vanished. Unsure of what else to do, Matt walked towards the figure. He took three steps and encountered a barrier. Miller explored it with his fingers, testing the barrier's strength. Its surface was smooth and even. _Glass_, he concluded, as light continued to rise, illuminating the figure beyond the barrier.

It was a woman. Her features came into view slowly, like a rising curtain in a theater. First, only her body was visible: honed and defined with years of physical activity. Next, her face. Freckles dusted lightly across high cheek bones and an aquiline nose. The eyes were a perfectly unremarkable shade of hazel, but the expressiveness of her brows rendered them the most striking feature the face possessed. He could only guess at the original color of the hair cascading to her shoulders. Vaguely dark? Now it was a deep shade of orchid, variegated like settling wine.

Rain.

"Don't worry, Matt. I'll get you out." He heard her say clearly. She looked directly into the glass. Could she see him?

_Another simulation meant to torment me? _Matt thought bitterly. _The unlikely savior comes to rescue her former enemy. You'll get me to fall for it and then she'll burst into giant keyboards that have come to crush me, or something equally dramatic. _

But then he heard another voice. It was deep and gravelly. As Miller listened to it, shivers ran the length of his spine. The voice was talking about Matt!

Rain's face contorted in anger as she argued with the owner of the deep voice. Suddenly the fear that this, too, might be a part of the programming left him. Only a thin pane of glass was separating him from Rain. Matt brought his fists up, banging on the barrier.

"Rain! Help!" He called out to her.

Suddenly the glass changed under his fingers. Rain's image disappeared and before him stretched the heavens. Burning stars glimmered against the blackness. A lone purple star shone brightly among the celestial sea. As he watched, the companion stars began to snuff out, leaving only the purple star.

He could still hear Rain's voice, defiant and caustic as she matched wits with the voice, who Matt concluded must be his captor. With each witty barb Rain launched, Matt began to feel different, stronger. It was like restraints were being loosened. Matt had no clue how, Rain was doing it.

The image of the cosmos was replaced by yet another scene. This time, a dungeon, lay before him. The snicker snack of a swinging pendulum was audible, making it difficult to hear the two speakers.

Unable to see or hear what was transpiring on the other side of the glass, he examined the scene. Matt recognized the references to Edgar Allan Poe immediately. He had not fancied literature, but Poe's morbid poetry had fascinated him. The swinging blade was straight from _The Pit and the Pendulum_, which depicted the horror of a man trapped in a prison by faceless captors. Perched on the pendulum was a raven. In Poe's poem _The Raven,_ the protagonist was mocked again and again by the specter of death, personified by the dark bird. The beating heart that drove a murderer mad, from the _Tell-Tale Heart, _was exposed beneath the floorboards. A skeleton, half entombed in the stone wall, was the unfortunate Fortunato from the _Cask of Amontillado_. In Poe's story, Fortunado is buried alive by a rival for a slight. Matt even spied the wine that had lured him to the location of his death. Of course, Matt thought. His captor had a sense of humor. How poetically just in a simulation that had trapped and tortured him for Christ only knows how long.

As quickly as it had come, the dungeon vanished. Matt felt lighter and with a kick he tested the glass. It visibly shook. In its wake, a seascape appeared. Storm clouds and a tumultuous sea surrounded a lone island. He could see Rain's small figure, a dot on the sand. Watching her solve the puzzles set before he by his captor was a bit like watching a person who, when given a Rubiks cube to solve, rips it to asunder instead.

The simulation flickered and a curious site appeared. By then he had stopped questioning the program's tendency to introduce new elements to the simulation. A woman with barely enough clothes to be considered "scantily" clad stood between him and Rain. At her feet were piles of the strangling wires and corrupted CDs, writhing over each other like cockroaches. Had she been the one responsible for his torment?

Rain squared off with the woman and launched into an all-out verbal assault on her. Venomous words spat through the air. Judging from the Dominatrix's increasing agitation, Rain was winning. Watching the display was oddly exhilarating.

"Why are you here?" The Tormentor finally relented, looking defeated.

"I want to rescue Matt Miller." Rain replied, her voice firm. She looked past the Dominatrix to where he stood beyond the glass.

The Tormentor's posture relaxed. "Sad, I wasn't done with him yet." He let out a whoop of pleasure and excitement. She had done it!

"But, Matt will have to face his most feared opponent." A wicked grin replaced the look of defeat the nearly nude woman had been feigning.

"Wait WHAT?" Matt coughed. "No no, I think I like being the observer better."

Bright light flooded his vision. The island, Tormentor and Rain disappeared in the sea of white. For a while, he saw absolutely nothing.

Unintelligible chanting rose on all sides of him. Matt reached out, fumbling in his blindness. At last his hand came into contact with something hard and unyielding. Abruptly, Matt could see and hear again.

His hands were resting lightly on the massive form of Killbane.

Matt stumbled backwards and was stopped by several ropes. He was stuck in an arena with Eddie Kilbane! Unknown fans cheered "KillBANE! KillBANE!" from outside the ring.

"It's just me and you, Matty." Killbane said, pointing one huge finger at him. Despite himself, Matt trembled.

Killbane had murdered Kiki DeWynter right in front of him, snapping her neck like a twig. His temper was murderous and his strength nigh unbeatable. After things soured in Steelport, Matt had decided to leave the Syndicate. He was lucky to escape without Killbane killing him. Matt could not face him alone.

"Let's do this." A steady voice said behind him. It was Rain.

Killbane laughed harshly, causing every muscle in his body to ripple. "A wimp like you can't defeat me. Matty isn't even a man."

"I don't think I can do this." The blow stung as if Killbane had struck him. Miller whimpered, nearly immobilized with fear.

"I know you can do it, Matt." Rain countered. Seven simple words. But, hearing those words from the leader of the Saints electrified Matt. He wasn't alone after all. If she was with him, he just might be able to borrow her incredible luck. The hope strengthened his limbs. A crazy idea shot through him.

"Right then." Climbing up onto the top rope, Matt leapt onto Killbane. To his surprise, the blow stunned the giant of a man. Encouraged, Miller rose to his feet and balled up his fist. He had never been in a fist fight before, but he had seen enough action movies to figure it out. Winding up, Matt slugged Killbane in the jaw. The effort forced him to rise onto his toes. Without giving the wrestler time to react, Matt punched him yet again, using every ounce of strength.

As if by a miracle, Killbane's towering form crashed to the ground. He did not move.

Adrenaline sweeter than any energy drink suffused every cell in Matt's body. "I did it! I won!"

"Time to go Matt." Rain's voice pulled him away from his victory. In his glee he had almost forgotten. He may have defeated his worst enemy, but he could not forget where he was. He HAD to get out of this prison!

A rotary phone appeared before him, materializing out of the program. It began to ring. Rain nodded at him.

He reached for the phone and lifted it from its cradle.

The arena, Killbane and everything about the simulation disappeared.


	8. What would the Robot Do?

Sudden painful awareness broke over Matt. It was not unlike being pounded in the face by waves again and again. He gasped for air. His mouth was filled with a briny taste, causing him to gag. A thick film, sticky like marshmallow paste, coated his entire body from head to foot.

The shock of exiting the prison simulation was overwhelming. He felt like he had been stripped naked and pushed into traffic.

Matt looked about. He was encased in some type of glass pod. His feet were covered in at least a foot of the sickening pink goo that clung to him. The mysterious liquid seemed to be conductive; it produced periodic tingles of electric current. _Must be to monitor my vitals_, Matt thought.

His mind began to calm as he caught his breath. Outside the pod, countless other pods were fixed to the walls. They went on endlessly, climbing out of sight, like some demented Easter egg basket. It made sense. To power something like the simulation he had been trapped in, the aliens would have needed a local connection. Being a physical prisoner of the Zin Empire would allow them unfettered access to his mind to run their program at will.

Matt reached out to test the front panel of the pod. His limbs felt weak, like they had not been used in some time. Unexpectedly, the panel swung open with the lightest touch. Matt had been anticipating a lock of some kind. But, perhaps they never expected prisoners to escape their simulations.

His legs did not quite hold him as he exited, causing him to take a face dive onto the floor. Matt fought back a dry heave, his body still racked with nausea.

For the first time, he realized his clothes had been taken from him. _Minor problem. Focus, Matt. Gather your wits. _He thought as forcefully as he could manage, hoping that the encouragement would take hold. He began to walk forward, tentatively. A pathway led away from his pod and disappeared beyond double hanger doors. A blast window gave an indicator of what lay beyond. Matt edged towards it. _You've come this far. The worst part is over! You've gotten out of the simulation .Now just.. ACK!_

Something passed just on the other side of the window. Matt ducked down, flattening himself against the door. The rhythmic staccato of his heart hammered into his chest. Miller strained his senses to detect whatever it was that he had seen. He heard nothing. Cautiously, he waited a good minute or so before slowly raising himself to peer through the glass viewing.

A splotchy gray figure retreated down a long corridor. Matt had seen that soap scum-colored skin and unique skeletal structure before. Being in the Zin Empire simulation had distorted his sense of time, making it seem like ages ago. Nevertheless, he distinctly remembered the anatomy of the alien species before him. He took particular delight recalling Asha snapping one of their necks at the White House shortly before the abduction.

He must be in some type of secure base. With the Zin's space travel capabilities, they could be hovering above Earth's atmosphere or in another galaxy entirely. It would be a challenge to escape, if it were even possible.

Another passing Zin forced Matt to retreat from the door. He would have to give up whatever secrets the passageway held, at least for now. Miller backtracked the way he had come, passing scores of pods identical to his own. A sudden thought made him stop and examine one. Perhaps Asha and the others were being held here as well.

The pod was filled with the same viscous fluid Matt was still covered in. The person inside was middle aged and balding. Definitely not Asha. He moved on to the next, then kept going. Specimens of all kinds lay encased in their cells. Small statures, red heads, athletic builds, brainy looking faces. The old and the young. People of all ethnicities and attractiveness. The Zin seemed to be collectors; Matt even saw people with dwarfism, albinism and polydactylism suspended in the conductive solution. Quite the menagerie.

A sea of faces, and not one that he recognized. He soon gave up the pursuit.

Hours had passed. He had no idea if, or when, he would be discovered. The Zin were constantly patrolling up and down the long corridor. Their guttural voices filtered through the metal doors separating him from them.

Twice, the Zin had sent a patrol through the pod room. Not willing to risk them noticing his empty pod, Matt had crawled back into his cell and feigned sleeping. It was a revolting feeling to submit himself to the pod again after having been its prisoner, but it was necessary.

An idea struck him as he was climbing out of the pod.

In the prison simulation, Rain had come to his rescue. She had solved the riddles imprisoning him and given him the courage to defeat Killbane. He was certain that she had been real and actively working against the Zin program to free him.

Rain was not well versed in technology. She relied on Kenzi Kensington exclusively for technical expertise. If Rain had gone through the trouble of hacking into alien technology to free a former enemy, it logically followed that she needed Matt for something. Two computer geniuses were better than one.

Matt could only hope that the conclusion was sound. If it was sound, then it also stood to reason that, after rescuing him from the simulation, she would recover his physical body. It was a wild hope, but it was all that he had.

Miller began to formulate a plan.

He had to find a way to attract Rain's attention to his location. He would have to abandon his pattern of staying hidden. Attempts to hide himself would only slow or foil a rescue operation. He needed something big and flashy.

Scanning his containment pod, he noticed a few things he had overlooked in his initial assessment. A series of wires ran from the base of the cell to its spine. Instead of the usual plastic coating that would surround a power conduit, the wires were covered in a blue gel of some sort. Its purpose could only be to insulate the power. When he applied pressure with his fingers, the gel resisted. He could use this. He plunged his hands into the protective coating, carefully covering his palms and fingers.

Matt needed to leave the pod room and find whatever terminal or hub the prison was using to power itself. Wherever that was, there were sure to be controls of some sort. If he could get his hands on them, he may be able to send a message out.

Matt needed to utilize the conductivity of the pink substance he was covered in. Using his body, Miller rubbed a generous portion onto the floor just in front of the hanger doors.

Next, Matt yanked the pod wires out of the brackets that held them. Matt was no athlete, but the exercise sessions with Asha had certainly come to fruition. In ripping the power free, the ends of the wires became exposed. Sparks crackled, but the blue gel substance he had covered his hands in protected him. Still, he kept the live wire at arm's length.

He counted the distance with his hands. Miller would have just enough slack to accomplish his purposes.

Stretching the sparking chords across the room, Matt drew in a deep breath. He silenced a momentary spasm of panic as he thought of the improbability of his plan succeeding. Quickly, he banished the doubt that Rain would not be coming for him. He needed confidence and bravery if he was going to have any chance at all.

_Of course she's coming for me. Rain, or at least Kenzi, is not stupid. They cannot let a talent like mine rot in an alien mind-prison. Now just hold it together until you see that god awful purple coming around the bend. _And so he cloaked himself in false bravado to quell the fear rising up.

With one last breath for good measure, Matt pressed toggled the controls that opened the double doors.

At the far end of the hallway, a Zin sentry was walking in linear patterns while examining what had to be a gun.

Matt let out a thin whistle. The alien turned just in time to see Matt rattling off an obscene gesture before retreating behind the door.

Miller waited patiently, flattening himself against the wall. Outside, the Zin guard thundered down the hall. With a metallic groan, the doors opened.

The Zin grunted in excitement, coming just far enough into the room to stand in the pink goo on the floor. It turned its bulbous eyes towards Matt.

Then Matt touched the end of the live wire to the puddle. Grounded in a conductive fluid, the electricity leaped to the Zin's frame. It was like watching an amateur puppet show; the kind where the puppeteers had not quite mastered the strings, leading to erratic, wild jerks. The Zin was dead long before his body stopped convulsing.

"Tch," Matt commented, not without awe. Unfortunately, the creature had died with his hand glued to his weapon. To grab it would be to risk electrocution, despite the protective gel he wore. Even if he got it safely, Matt wasn't even sure he would be able to use it. The weapon could stem from some wildly different type of technology which could backfire if he did not use it properly. Hell,Matt was not even particularly effective with _human_ guns.

He would have to rely on his brains then. Before leaving, Miller fiddled with the control panel that opened the doors. It was a simple device. Besides the locking mechanism, it was programmed with a visual display. He was surprised how easy it was to bypass the standard display for a visual of his own choosing. With a grin, Matt left his trail of breadcrumbs for Rain to follow.

He then stepped over the body of the Zin and walked into the long corridor.

About twenty meters down, other passageways began to branch off. At first, Matt moved tentatively, afraid of attracting more attention. This changed when, as he fiddled with another door control, an entire Zin patrol passed him without glancing his way.

_Why aren't they looking for me?_ Matt asked himself. Suddenly, distant explosions and the buzz of weaponry drifted to him from the direction the patrol headed. _Of course! The Saints are already here! The Zin will focus their efforts on them. Why bother guarding me when I'm of no threat? Kill __them__ on the other hand, and the Zin can pop me right back into the simulation._

Miller moved more quickly, leaving his trail at every terminal he could find. The sound of combat grew closer. Patrols were everywhere now, rushing in set formations. With the combat growing ever closer, Matt had to find a safe place.

As he was ducking into a room, a troupe of highly advanced robotic units stalked towards the end of the long corridor. Guns and lasers were mounted on their sharp frames. They were even communicating with each other, displaying artificial intelligence far beyond what had been produced on earth. Matt felt a stab of fear looking at them, and he was not entirely sure it was for himself. He retreated into the room.

It appeared to be a storage room. Thankfully, it was empty. Metallic bins holding supplies of inscrutable nature lined the walls. Though a computer terminal occupied the center of the room, he no longer needed to send out a message now that the rescue party was here.

Explosions began to rock the floor. A confident smile hitched up the corners of Matt's mouth. Any moment now and a sea of purple thugs would burst through the doorway, overwhelming his captors.

Suddenly something lumbered into the room. A gigantic robot stood before him, blocking his way out. It was even bigger than the fearsome units he had seen while ducking into this room! With the pumping of pistons, the robot slammed two gigantic metal arms down into its attackers, who were not visible from Matt's vantage point. A wave of silence followed.

_No! _Matt's thoughts screamed in his head. _I was so close to being rescued! And Rain-…_

The robot swiveled its optic plate towards him. Its surface gleamed, even in the dim light of the prison. It took one huge step forward and reached out its hands. The movement caused the boxes in the room to jump.

"Get away from me!" Matt shrieked at the robot in a panic. "I mean it!" If the unit had destroyed the Saints, he would be no match for it. He threw his hands in front of him like a shield and waited for the blow that would surely end him.

"Woah, Matt." A familiar voice said. "Relax. It's me." Miller stopped cringing long enough to look up into the face plate. Though the plate was not capable of expressing emotion, Matt thought he detected amusement in the voice.

".. Rain..?" Matt asked incredulously. The robot inclined its head forward in a gesture of affirmation. Emboldened, Matt's fear evaporated. "It's about time I was rescued."

Eager to forget the image of himself cowering naked in a corner, Matt turned his attention on the robot. Now that he was not afraid of it ending his life, he could not help but marvel at the unit's construction. It was amazing and easily more advanced than the unimpressive pods and control terminals. "You wouldn't believe what they have here. But I never imagined they had ROBOTS."

"So it IS a robot!" Rain's voice came from deep within the metal frame of the mech. "Kenzi's like 'this is 'power armor' not -"

"So not a robot." Matt barely heard Kenzi's tinny response through Rain's communicator.

The robot gave a gratuitous flex of its metallic limbs, revealing a series of alien script scrawled across its back. "Come on, Matt. I'm getting you out of here." It turned on its heels and dashed, with surprising dexterity, through the doorway into the hall.

"Right!" Miller responded, following it.

They backtracked through a pathway of carnage. Rain had left bodies strewn left and right, like scattering seed into the wind. Warped metal and scorched equipment left a clear indicator of where the leader of the Saints had infiltrated. Rain led them down a different direction, no doubt guided by Kenzi.

The robot was splendid to watch. They faced opposition along the way, but the mech smashed through it as easily as a child smashes his toy blocks. Matt could not help but gape at the ingenuity behind it. It interfaced seamlessly with Rain's commands. Every action it took was poetry in motion. Matt wanted nothing more than to be able to take it apart to see how every nook and cranny functioned.

"What kind of firepower does that mech have?" He asked loudly over the screams of the dying Zin.

"This is pretty much it. Kenzi said it's.. missing.. stuff." Rain called back as she rammed the metal body of the robot into a small herd of aliens.

"Typical!" Matt scoffed, seeing a sudden opportunity to prove himself. It would be just like Kenzi to put together a complex plan and overlook a critical detail like weapons. "Give me a moment to find the parts."

Several packing crates were nearby. He scrutinized the labels and selected one with a picture of something that vaguely resembled a gun. "Watch my back!" He called over his shoulder and immediately winced at how apt the command was. He became acutely aware of his state of appearance. He certainly had not anticipated Raine seeing him naked for the first time like this.  He did not stop to wonder exactly _how_ he anticipated her seeing him naked.

Matt bent over and pried open the crate with the weapons label. He had chosen well. Arms and munitions of odd designs and makes were stacked inside. They were far too small to be what he was looking for. Miller pushed them aside, digging deeper. He needed something huge if it were going to fit the robot.

"You done yet?" Rain shouted over the mayhem.

"You worry about your job and let me do mine!" Matt shot back irritably. The constant explosions and gunfire were making it difficult for him to concentrate.

At last, at the bottom of the crate sat a gun the size of Matt's entire body. He ran his fingers over its frame. He recognized the symbols scrawled across the metal. They were the same as those written on the mech's back. This had to be it!

"Ok!" He called, wrenching it out of the crate. Its weight was surprisingly light; perhaps it was fashioned from some alloy unknown to earth. "I have the parts. Get to me and I'll set you up."

The ground jumped as Rain maneuvered the robot towards him. Matt wiggled behind the unit to get a better look at its parts. An unused port sat along the robot's spine. Gingerly, he inserted the parts of the gun into the port.

"This will be much different from any other weapon you're used to." He said. To be honest, Matt did not know how the gun would work. The size of the barrel indicated that it may fire some large projectile, but he could not be certain.

"Don't oversell it Matt. It's a gun." Rain said dryly, unable to see the incredible size of the weapon Matt was attaching.

"It's more than just a _gun._" Matt responded, his voice more wounded than he had anticipated. He clicked the last of the pieces into the port. Several lights flashed at him, indicating the connection was stable. He slapped the robot on its back.

"Alright, let's get to Kenzi."

Matt followed Rain at a distance. It was a dangerous dance, trying to keep close enough to her to avoid the Zin and far enough away to keep from being blown up. This became doubly true when Rain fired the new weapon for the first time.

A group of Zin was shooting wildly at the robot, hoping to prevent Rain from escaping. Suddenly, rocket-like projectiles blazed out of the gun and hammered into the mob with all of the frenzy of a fireworks display. Arms, legs, and sparkles went every which way.

The corridor through which they had been running opened up into a platform of some sort.

Robot-Rain melted the lower torsos off a unit that Matt had seen patrolling earlier. "Kenzi, tell me you're close." She barked into her communicator.

Over the din of the battle, Matt could not hear Kenzi's reply. But he got the picture when Rain fell into a holding pattern in a corner. They needed to buy more time before an extraction could be made.

He was edging towards her location when she cried out in an almost worried tone "Matt, get down! Here comes some more!"

Miller ducked down low, moving in a sort of crouching sprint before throwing himself behind a pile of crates. A spray of gunfire erupted where he had been only moments ago.

Though the Zin were being mowed down by the dozens, countless others replaced them. From his vantage point, Matt saw that Rain's gun was beginning to glow red with heat. That was not good. If the metal overheated, the firing mechanism would probably cease working until the unit cooled down.

To make matters worse, alien ships began to circle overhead. Unlike the Zin ground troops, the ships were more than well-equipped. A series of light beams fired at Rain, striking the floor and several crates behind her. Where the beams struck, the floor and crates simply ceased to exist. The atoms flew apart. "Stay down, Matt!" She screamed at him.

"We're going to die here, I know it!" Miller began to panic. He wanted to melt into the crates to escape the attention of the ships.

"Kenzi. **You** **need to get here!" **The leader of the Saints shouted into her communicator.

The ships fired wildly, painting the ground with gaping holes. Rain proved how agile the robot was, dashing in and out of the fire while hammering the ships with rockets. The counterattack was effective; ships exploded into a shower of flames.

The Zin used the diversion to amass their troops. They came in droves, pouring onto the platform in staggering numbers.

"Matt! The gun stopped working." Rain called out. She threw herself like a cannon ball into a wall of advancing troops, knocking them pell-mell.

Was she crazy? Did she want him to wade out into the fray and do repairs on the spot? "I did what I could. I can't really fix it right now." He shouted back defensively.

She swore in response.

Then something big and looming entered the space above the platform: another ship. When it did not immediately begin firing on Rain, fresh hope surged into Matt. Could it be Kenzi?! He heard Rain's voice clearly. "Ship's in the platform, Matt. Get to it!"

Matt's heart felt like it was going to burst. He leaped to his feet and sprinted towards the ship, bullets whizzing overhead.

He assessed the situation at a dead run. The ship hovered a good twenty feet above the end platform. He would need assistance if he was going to make the leap. Behind him, Rain was barreling at break-neck speed towards him. He slowed his pace. At the last possible moment, he leaped onto the robot's mechanical arm. Rain engaged the mech's gravity thrusters and they shot into the open cargo door.

Rain let out a string of jubilant curses as the door closed and the ship carried them to safety.

With a hydraulic exhale, the chest plate of the mech opened up. A woman clad in a skin tight grey suit slithered out of it and extended her fist to him.

He would have returned the gesture if he had not suddenly remembered that he was _still_ nude.

Apparently Rain Franklin had remembered too. She glanced down at him and lifted one eyebrow at an ambiguous angle then reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to S.S. Freckle Bitch's."


	9. Ship Shape

Life on the ship was like a mix between a waking dream and a Sci Fi comic.

The ship was similar in construction to the Zin prison, only on a smaller scale. That made sense; Kenzi had smuggled it from under the Zin mother ship after the attack on the White House. It had since been transformed by the few Saints that occupied it.

Matt wasn't exactly sure where they had gotten their hands on the homey furniture that was spread throughout the ship's many levels, but it added a human touch to the vessel's stark metallic features.

No sooner had he boarded S.S. Freckle Bitch's than he had carved a niche for himself in the cargo hold. It wasn't much to call home: a couch that looked like it had been recovered from the 50's, a stack of crates filled with military rations, and a series of bars and stairs that he could utilize to keep in shape, if he were so inclined. The food was a bit awful. The bathroom situation was even worse. Time was a relative concept without the light of the sun. Sleeping was conducted in shifts. But what it lacked in comfort, it more than made up for in technology.

She was divided between two decks. The cargo bay sat at the stern. Several closets and alcoves housed odds and ends that the crew made use of for their sleeping quarters. The helm held the navigation and pilot stations. At the heart of the ship was a bank of computer terminals linked directly to a series of "sleeper" machines that were capable of patching into the simulations run by the Zin.

The ship was filled to the brim with machines and parts the likes of which Matt had only imagined in the Decker Sanctum. Power sources and metals that did not exist on earth, wiring that made humanity's most advanced counterparts look like a potato lamp and much, much more. It was a technology enthusiast's wet dream.

Matt spent hours dissecting anything he could get his hands on. The cargo hold soon became a catch-all of Zin technology.

Even occupied as he was, he felt the isolation of the ship. It was run by a skeleton crew of just four souls: Rain Franklin, Kenzi Kensington, Keith David, and himself. Each of them had their usual haunts. Kenzi could either be found at the heart of the ship, hacking away, or resting in her alcove. David often patrolled the pilot's deck, looking intently out into the sea of stars. Rain wandered wherever she pleased.

The scarcity of alternative companionship led to an odd relationship between Matt and his former enemies.

One day, as Matt was rounding a bend in the observation deck to get to the Sleeper Room, raised voices caught his ears.

"It's gone.." Kenzi was speaking. Her voice was hostile, though that was nothing new.

The three Saints drew into view. Keith was seated at a chair, staring at a screen. The women stood behind him. They were so involved with whatever the screen was displaying that they did not even acknowledge Matt's entrance.

"What do you mean it's _gone_, Kenzi?" Rain asked incredulously.

Kenzi pointed furiously over Keith's shoulder. "I mean the Earth is gone, boss. Zinyak blew it up after you rescued Miller. See that black space on the screen? That is Earth."

"Show me." Rain commanded, leaning in.

"It's true. I've run the coordinates a dozen times. You can see the sun here and the other planets here."

The President gave him a flat look. "Keith, when the hell did you become an astronaut?"

David folded his arms over his well-formed frame. "I played a space traveler in a movie once. You pick things up. The Earth is gone, Madame President."

A period of painful, astonished silence followed. The Earth was gone?

"I don't understand." Matt interrupted the quiet desperation mingling in the air. "Why go to the trouble of attacking Earth's leaders if he's just going to blow the planet up?"

Kenzi turned on him, her eyes shooting lightning. "Maybe because he doesn't want to colonize planets. Maybe because he can do what he wants. Or **maybe** it's because he told our leader 'save Matt Miller and I'll exterminate humanity'."

"Wait WHAT?" Matt blurted. He looked towards Rain. The Saint stood facing away from him. Though she said nothing, Rain's back visibly stiffened.

"Let's be fair." Keith mediated. "Zinyak is the kind of devil that would shake your hand while he guts you. That bastard could have destroyed Earth long before making her that offer."

Kenzi sighed loudly and lowered herself to a sitting position under a terminal. "You're right, Keith." She conceded, her voice softer. "Just get that asshole, Boss." She said without looking up.

"Sure thing." Rain Franklin nodded. They were simple words, but there was conviction in the woman's voice.

Rain turned away, moving past him, and left the observation deck.

Miller did not linger overlong in the silence that followed the President's departure.

Matt's mind was inundated with thoughts. He knew that the leader of the Third Street Saints had saved him from the Zin simulation, risking great harm to herself. Keith David was probably right. If the level of sadism in the virtual prison was any indication, the Zin were not ones to swear on Scout's honor. The decision Rain had made probably had no bearing on Earth's fate. It was far more likely that they had knowledge of the President's heroics five years ago and were attempting to manipulate her into taking a more sacrificial route. Taking things apart always helped Matt think. His wanderings led him back to the cargo bay in search of his tools.

When he entered, he was surprised to see Rain Franklin sitting in his customary spot. She was perched on a stack of crates, evidently waiting for him. She cocked her head, beckoning him over. Miller obliged, leaning his rail thin frame on the stack.

Matt was still getting used to seeing her in the flesh. So much of his life was spent staring at screens that the real world easily became _sur_real. Now that she was only inches away from him, odd thoughts pushed their way into the already jumbled mess in the young man's mind.

As she was depicted in pictures and on screen, Rain was familiar. The media was flooded with stock images and news reels of Rain golfing, posing with rifles for the NRA, and taking a hard line on lowering taxes. All with a plastic, every-tooth-showing smile. In person, her face was far more expressive. When she smiled, her hazel eyes sparkled. And when she was angry, a nerve in her jaw clenched. Now, her lips were set into a thoughtful frown.

"Kenzi's kind of pissed." She said frankly.

At first, Matt considered aiming a barb at the former FBI agent, as was his wont. But the loss of Earth robbed him of the usual pleasure he derived from the pastime. He wanted to ask about what Kenzi had said. But instead, he said. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Normally she does her.. thing.. when I go to fake Steelport. But I don't really feel like walking around as a sex doll while Zin shoot at me. So," Rain didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she turned her face away, causing wine dark hair to spill over her eyes.

The sudden pang of concern Matt felt surprised him. Perhaps Kenzi's news was just beginning to sink in. Or perhaps it upset him to see Rain distressed.

"You want me to ride along with you?" He asked quickly.

Matt busied himself hooking into the monitoring system of the simulation. Rain turned her face back and looked very intently at him.

Miller pretended not to notice the look in her eyes.


	10. You've Got it Bad

The President climbed into one of the Sleeper chambers while Miller prepped the conduit to the Steelport simulation. As soon as the program had loaded, Rain's body began to exhibit signs of "sleeping". Her jaw went slack, her eyes fluttered closed. It was from this state that the room derived its name.

Ever since his arrival on the ship, he had been exploring the simulation. The concept was vaguely similar to the simulation programs he had designed and run with Asha, but the mechanics were vastly different. Though Matt was a programming linguist, the technology the Zin employed was foreign to him. The learning process would be an interesting one.

Former agent Kenzi Kensington was a wealth of information. Though he initially hated to admit it, she was remarkably talented at breaking the Zin program down into its most basic parts. Her method was painstakingly slow, but effective.

**Step one: Poke and prod absolutely everything.** How does Object A react when Scenario B is introduced? Instruct Rain to shoot the graphics representing cars, civilians and power boxes.

**Step two: Resist defenses in the system**. Zinyak, the leader of the Zin, had programmed Rain's simulation to resemble Steelport. It possessed all of the technical features of the former city. To safeguard the program, police and "wardens" kept order. What the Zin possessed in fire power (or rather pixel power), they lacked in creativity. So a gun in the Steelport simulation was just as effective at putting down an enemy as was in the real world. Have Rain mow down any and all opposition.

**Step three: Introduce new programming. **If the existing programming rules did not allow for certain functions, create new ones. Enable new weapons, new powers. Convert existing programming to your purpose, like coding a virus. Ask Rain to inject these viruses and hijack aberrant code.

Kenzi begrudgingly took him under her wing. She was a harsh teacher, though he had expected nothing less. Frequent were the snide remarks and belittling of his manhood. But eventually, Matt began to appreciate her methods. Matt was sure that he would have gotten the hang of the simulation eventually. But it would have taken much longer without Kenzi's help.

Today, he was working without her. He still had not had time to come to grips with the news of Earth's destruction. He was glad of the opportunity to help Rain. Glad of the opportunity not to think about what he had lost.

Immediately, data began to display on his screen. Matt viewed the raw data and the images that the simulation created simultaneously, the way one views opening credits to a movie.

Steelport opened its sharp metallic maw to Rain. Buildings, alight with code, stretched like piano wires overhead.

"Alright, Matt." He heard Rain's disembodied voice through his headset. "What am I killing today?"

Matt's blue eyes scanned the code. An anomalous amount of activity was taking place in a nearby quadrant. The simulation was spending an inordinate amount of energy running whatever was happening there.

"I'm patching you the coordinates now. There's entirely too much of the program's resources being diverted to this location." Matt responded, his fingers flying over the keyboard at a dizzying speed.

"In English, Matt?" She asked crisply.

"Uh, I think I've found something important." Miller simplified his statement. In the few days he had worked with Kenzi, she had taught him to water down the technical jargon so often associated with technology.

"Gotcha'." The President was not stupid. Matt had made the mistake of that assumption too often when he and Rain were enemies. Rain was a woman of action. It wasn't that she was incapable of comprehending Matt's words; they were superfluous. She did not need to know how or why things worked; she needed to know where she came in. A bullet is not made any more deadly by knowing how fast it is traveling.

He watched with pleasure as a line lit up before Rain, guiding her forward. There was something fundamentally fulfilling in watching a creation come to fruition. The leader of the Saints took off at a run.

It was a unique experience to watch Rain Franklin in action. She had spent years as a member and leader of a gang, a hyper masculine society that prized physical prowess and combat skills over nearly all other attributes. She was built solidly of iron muscle, but not to the point that it detracted from her speed. Running was a priority for any gang member.

And it _was_ fascinating watching her run. Muscles tensed and relaxed, visible even through the fabric Rain's virtual avatar wore. Preoccupied with his observations, Matt was caught off guard by what came next.

"Matt?" She asked, still running.

"Hmm?" Matt coughed.

"I said is there something wrong up there? You're breathing kinda' heavy." The President's tone was neutral, like she was inquiring about the weather.

"The microphone must be too close." Matt stammered, readjusting it. "Better?"

_Focus on the task at hand, Matt,_ he mentally chastised himself. He wasn't entirely willing to admit his growing appreciation for Rain Franklin's physical appearance.

The President rounded a building and the source of the energy spike became apparent. A hotspot of Zin had formed. They were swarming, writhing over the decrepit architecture of an abandoned factory.

Rain skidded to a halt and ducked behind a low wall. "Matt, they're all over this place."

"I know, I'm picking them up. Let me think for a moment." Matt went silent, trying to formulate a plan. Retreat to a safe location. Conduct reconnaissance. After gathering intelligence, infiltrate the hot spot.

His eyes swept away from the screen to rest on Rain's actual body. A slight smile rested on her lips, as if she were in the middle of a very entertaining dream.

"Yeah, I'm going to go with overwhelming fire power." Her voice in his headset pulled him back to the simulation.

Matt began to protest, but was silenced by the bark of gunfire. Rain took down the two Zin closest to her, crouching low as she ran. She took down a third leaving the safety of the wall.

The gunfire attracted the attention of the remaining Zin. Data streamed furiously across Matt's screen.

They rushed towards the leader of the Saints, guns roaring. Bullets whizzed past Rain, some even grazing her.

Rain Franklin was no professional. She did not have the measured grace in combat that Asha did. The British spy killed with precision and cold calculation, never letting her emotions cloud her judgment.

Rain, on the other hand, was a hurricane: a whirlwind that lashed out with deadly force and emotion. At times she was gleeful. "Four, five, six." She kept time with her kills. At other times, she smote her enemies with near biblical wrath, calling out the names of people he could only assume had passed away. Why, she was almost like..

"Franklin Nyte." Matt pronounced the mortal name of Nyte Blayde reverently.

Not to be distracted from her carnage, Rain talked over the gunfire."What was that?"

"Ahrm, nothing." Matt tried to recover. The similarity between Rain and the eponymous vampire after the death of his wife was striking. Both had had their worlds ripped from them and had set upon a path of revenge, no matter the personal cost.

Zin were dropping like flies, but more kept coming. Portals of code opened up around the hotspot, generating new troops.

"Matt?" Rain called out. She dropped her semi automatic in favor of a shotgun, pressing forward into the surging mass of Zin.

"I'll try and close the portals for you." He said quickly, attempting to inject his voice with confidence. He examined the programming streaming from the portals. Matt doubted he could do anything about the existing Zin, but he could possibly turn off the portal itself.

He worked in a fervor, encouraged by the warrior that was the President of the United States. At last, he succeeded in shutting off the portals. They winked out one by one, leaving behind Rain's heavy breathing and the lingering silence of death.

"Looks like you got 'em." Miller commented, scanning the program carefully for signs of any more portals.

A strange, not unpleasant, feeling was worming through the pit of his stomach, like the sensation one experiences on a roller coaster. The more Matt thought about it, the more tangible the feeling became, and the more it began to resemble panic.

Rain grunted in response. "Time to get back to the ship, I guess. Find me a way home?"

Miller identified the exit to the simulation and mapped a visual route for her. Within moments, she was stepping through the virtual portal.

Matt looked up from the screen, giving himself a few seconds of an uninterrupted view of the President. Rain stirred, her eyes fluttering open and focusing on him. The feeling in his stomach redoubled, causing pangs of unmistakable pleasure and excitement to wind like party streamers up and down his nervous system. There was no denying it now.

Matt had it bad for Rain Franklin.


	11. Avoid at all Cost

Matt Miller was at war with himself. The battlefront of his mind was divided starkly on opposing ideological sides.

One side, deeply entrenched, carried with it all the force of his logic. There was a part of Matt that deeply appreciated the comfort of rational thought. It was practical. No matter what his heart desired, this part of Matt demanded that he walk the logical path. The Saints were at war with the Zin, an alien race, with overwhelming and superior technology. This was no place for sentimentality. A relationship (assuming one was even possible) could distract and even fracture the Saints' cohesiveness. This part of Matt screamed at him to get over it. Buck up, carry on.

The second side sprung up so gradually that he hardly knew when it had begun. Its army gathered troops secretly, persuading daily more and more to join its cause. This side rejected Matt's logic on a fundamental level. It urged Matt to face the facts: they could die at any moment. What was a more glorious way to go out? Cringing and hiding on some backwater space ship or in the arms of a lover?

This side of Matt, the emotional side, possessed barracks that were stocked with highly effective weapons. It was constantly waging war against its enemy. First came the salvo of dancing in Matt's stomach whenever he passed Rain. Then, they took up constant shelling of artillery that sent tingles through Matt's extremities when the President happened to make eye contact with him. Most deadly of all was the gnawing, burning hunger he was beginning to feel when thinking about her. It was more effective than chemical warfare.

Matt began to feel like he was a minefield strewn with casualties and that at any moment he may explode. The result was that he began to avoid Rain.

Miller wrapped a tourniquet of seclusion around himself. He barricaded himself in the cargo bay, taking refuge in his machines. Day in and day out, he plunged into the programming.

She did not seem to notice, as far as he could tell. The President was a woman on a mission. She easily spent six to seven hours a day wading through the simulation, and another two hours strategizing with Kenzi and Keith.

To cut down on stress, Rain unwound by running up and down the ship staircases, throwing punches at a heavy bag, and lifting weights. At the end of all of this, she collapsed into a sound sleep on a couch located in the recreation room. Miller knew that didn't leave a lot of time for navel gazing about who amongst the crew was feeling mopey.

Even if she had noticed his absence, Matt thought grimly, she would not have cared. It was not as if they had been chums before the Zin invasion. They had gone from bitter enemies to apathetic acquaintances. They needed each other for survival, and that was all.

Observant though he was, Matt missed signs that he was wrong. He overlooked the long glances she gave him as they passed in the hall. Twice, his logical side dismissed the times that she popped in to inquire about his progress in the simulation when she could have easily asked Kenzi.

During that time, the reality of Earth's destruction hit home particularly hard. He recalled poignantly how Viola had made lunch plans with him and Asha the day that the White House was attacked. They would never make that lunch appointment. Viola, along the rest of the earth, was gone. With that revelation came an even more jarring one.

Everything he loved was gone: the computers that he had built by hand, his collection of video games, even Nyte Blayde. If the Zin had not collected Josh Birk as a specimen, there would never again be another Nyte Blayde episode.

Like most who appreciated fantasy, Matt used the stories of his hero as an escape. Though his life was surrounded by numbers and computer screens, vicariously he could live through Franklin Nyte. Through Birk's eyes, he could travel, fight, and even love. Losing this link was like losing a part of himself.

Never again would Franklin Nyte, and by extension Matt, embark on a new adventure. Gone was the Nyte Blayde multiverse. Gone was the sea of fanfiction that catapulted Franklin Nyte to far flung realms. The comics, the action figures, the extended cut DVD with bonus features: gone. Nyte Blayde existed now only in Matt's mind.

He mourned the loss of his world. He gained solace with every piece of the Zin simulation that he claimed for the Saints.

Miller paused to take a break after a particularly long stretch of coding virus that would later be inserted into the virtual Steelport. He pinched the bridge of his nose where a headache was coming to a point. It was probably the constant eye strain of staring at a screen.

When he looked up, he was surprised to see Rain sitting on the couch. She was staring at him intently.

Matt blinked rapidly in surprise. "Hello. How long have you been there?" He had not heard her come in, nor felt her sit down on the couch beside him. Nevertheless, there she was.

"Oh, you know. Ten minutes." The President exclaimed unabashedly. Her face was lovely up close. He could see every feature plainly in the opalescent light that filtered through the port holes. Matt could have counted her freckles if he had the mind to.

"Not to be rude, but why?" Matt continued, slightly irritated that his heart had suddenly begun to pound in his chest. _What am I, twelve?_ He scolded himself.

"Well, Keith made dinner an hour ago." Rain explained, sotto voce. She was still looking at him. The intensity of her gaze unnerved Matt. "And by 'made' I mean he unpackaged the military rations. Sitting down to this fine feast, we noticed you were absent. Had been absent for several meals, actually."

Rain began to lean forward towards him.

"Is it meal time already?" Matt's voice came out sounding a bit brittle. What was she doing leaning in? Panicking, Matt rocked back onto the heels of his hands, trying to put space in between himself and the Boss. He ran out of space when he backed into the arm of the couch and he was forced to hold his ground.

Rain stopped a breath away from his face. A magnetic sensation commanded the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. She was now close enough to brush her lips against him. "Your eyes are very blue." She said instead and instantly leaned back again.

A mixture of both relief and disappointment flooded Matt's brain. It felt like the floor had dropped away. "What?" He managed weakly.

"Like cobalt." She purred. "You know what my favorite color is?"

"Purple?" He coughed. Matt's mind reeled as it battled itself. _What is she getting at, sneaking up on me and blathering about my eyes? Aren't there more important things to be doing? .. .. .. My god, but she is pretty._

"Oh, no. I wear that to represent the Saints. Now blue, on the other hand, that's a color." She flashed him a Cheshire cat grin and half of Matt's embattled mind rejoiced. Her smile was like the sun coming out. Every fleck of green in her eyes lit up.

"You know Matt," Rain reached over and gripped the collar of his suit with both hands. Her grip was strong. Miller gulped audibly. "There are only four of us now. You know what that means, right?"

A multitude of possibilities sprung into his head, each accompanied by their own set of images. Mentioning any one of them would have been intelligent, but he felt like he was swimming in molasses. "No." He said stupidly, berating himself the moment the word left his lips. _Get it together, Matt. You're not a teenager anymore!_

"It means I need you to perform at your best. To do that, you need to eat." Rain winked one hazel eye at him and just like that released her grip.

Matt's mental faculties all but left him. "Right." He nodded, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

"Dinner's waiting for you in the rec room. Don't be long." With that, the President rose from the couch and exited the way she had come.

"Idiot." Matt said bitterly to himself as soon as she had gone. "Since when do you drop 30 IQ points around a woman?" He set aside his computer and followed after the leader of the Saints.

The recreation room was a collection of mismatched furniture. The mismatched seating, garish wall decorations, and makeshift pool table gave the overall impression that a child had decorated the room.

Sitting in one of the chairs with her legs crossed underneath her was Rain Franklin. Lifting one eyebrow, she gestured to the seat opposite from her where Matt's dinner was lying.

Matt took the seat and meal offered to him. Space food possessed all of the flavor and excitement of an hour long wait for a connecting flight. It sustained the crew but had the consistency of wet cardboard. Matt ate mechanically, taking little pleasure in the activity.

"I've been thinking, Matt." The President said without any hint of the flirtatious behavior she had exhibited only minutes ago. Her tone was silvery, rising and falling in a winning cadence. Matt had heard it before in the speeches she had given as President of the United States.

When she saw that he was too preoccupied trying to keep the barely palatable food down, Rain pressed on. "We need to step up our game against Zinyak. You and Kenzi are working on the simulation at all hours. We can't keep this up for much longer."

Matt nodded as he listened, unable to contradict anything she said, even if his mouth had not been full. It was true; the four of them were being run ragged. He and Kenzi were constantly looking for ways to weaken the Zin's hold on the Steelport simulation. They were certain it was the key to finding Zinyak. The two of them fed Rain missions by the dozens. The damage they were wreaking to the simulation was enough to make the Saints wary that their physical location would be discovered. Keith David monitored the heavens at all hours, engaging in evasive maneuvers when necessary to avoid detection.

"If we're going to keep going, we'll need help. Matt, I want you to find Pierce."


	12. Et tu, Paul?

It was going to be tricky smuggling another Saint out of their prison simulation. The Zin had tightened security parameters after Matt had been freed. Zinyak evidently did not want any more purple nuisances escaping his prison. It was more difficult now to isolate individual simulations, like finding a needle in a haystack.

He and Kenzi worked tirelessly to locate the simulation, their faces nearly pressed to the screen as they looked in. So it was not surprising that something began looking back.

While Rain was running down leads, she encountered CID for the first time.

A highly intelligent creature, CID had been trapped in the simulation for as long as the simulation had existed. If CID was to be believed, the first simulation had been created _for _him. CID had been imprisoned for so long that his physical body had long since passed away. Matt thought himself supremely fortunate, in comparison.

CID's knowledge of the Zin system was without equal. He displayed an unparalleled knack for assembling and disassembling components of the program and was extremely adept at moving _through _simulations as easily as one passes through a door. If anyone could find Pierce and the other Saints, this entity could.

In exchange for a physical shell in the outside world, CID agreed to use his knowledge to help the Saints stop Zinyak and his cronies.

Kenzi had been guiding Rain when they first encountered CID, so Matt did not become acquainted with him until after they had transferred CID's consciousness into the real world.

Miller intended to get the information out of CID at any cost. Matt was certain that he could be reasoned with. After all, Zinyak had cost CID _his _home as well.

Matt entered the ship compartment in which CID had taken up residence. The dim whir of machinery greeted him. The floating eyeball-like machine that CID's mind resided in swiveled towards him. The mech's optical plate lit up in recognition.

"Matthew Miller." CID spoke with an automated, perfunctory voice.

The hacker nodded at the machine, then wondered if the gesture meant anything in the creature's native culture. How did he speak English, anyways? No matter. "Hello, CID. I've come for information on one of Rain's Lieutenants, Pierce Washington. We need your help in tracking him down; the Zin have hidden him somewhere in the program."

CID's optic plate darkened. After a moment, the light returned. "I know the one you speak of; know them all. Human Specimen number 28403."

Matt's eyes widened. Kenzi had said CID was capable, but this was beyond anything Matt had imagined. It had taken CID only moments to accomplish what he and Kenzi had been working on for days! "You do? Great, and you can lead Rain there?" Matt could hardly believe his good luck.

"With compensation." CID's matter-of-fact voice said.

"Compensation?" Matt echoed. _Of course,_ he thought. _Practical does not mean idealistic. Why work for free when you can defeat your enemy AND get what you want? "_What will it cost? An upgrade to your power cells maybe?"

CID's round body rotated slightly to the left and then the right. "Images."

What kind of images would a being that was essentially a floating intellect be interested in? No matter, it would be far easier than designing new functions on CID's apparatus. "What kind of images?" Miller asked.

"Images of the one you call Rain." The mech answered.

"WHAT?" Matt sputtered, completely caught off guard.

"You possess images of the female Rain." CID continued in his monotone voice. "In exchange for them, I will give you the location of Specimen 28403."

The machine's blank features were impossible to read. "I.. don't know what you're talking about." Matt hedged.

"The images stored on your computation device. The ones that show the female Rain Franklin-"

"Christ keep it _down!" _Matt shrieked and instantly regretted it. If the President found out that he possessed those photos, she would start wondering how he had gotten them. He had a pretty good idea of what she would do to him.

Matt listened to the ship carefully. The whirring of the robot was the only sound; their conversation had gone unnoticed. "Do we have a deal?" CID queried.

"You can't have those pictures." Matt said at last. Though Rain was relying on Matt to find her Lieutenant, the idea of surrendering her photos in exchange filled him with revulsion. He was sick to his stomach just thinking about it. An idea suddenly occurred to him. "But.. I know of images of another female on this ship that you can have."

"This location here, the Broken Shillelagh, is a nexus of the simulations." Matt explained to Rain, pointing to the screen at a posh bar in downtown Steelport. Rain leaned over him to see, her hair tickling his face. "Uh, erm.. I've isolated Pierce's simulation. You should be able to walk through to him."

"What, like a door?" Rain asked, turning her gaze on him. Behind her, CID puttered by them towards Kenzi's alcove.

Matt grinned impishly. "Very much like a door."

Rain ran her finger along his collar bone. "Nicely done, Matt. I knew you had it in you. Now patch me through."

The Broken Shillelagh was by all appearances a metropolitan pub. Fashionable cafe style tables and chairs adorned the porch under the pleasant glow of holiday lights. Upscale patrons lounged about, laughing inanely over their pixelated beverages.

As soon as Rain opened the Broken Shillelagh's double glass doors, the establishment was revealed as a facade. Unbearably bright light poured from the doorway. With little hesitation, Rain went through.

Watching The President step into Pierce's prison brought back the horrible memory of his own dungeon. Zinyak delighted in tormenting his captives. He taunted them, placing them in a cage whose bars were wrought iron fear and doubt.

But that was not the worst part. Nobody could sustain terror indefinitely. Eventually a person ceases to feel as they become desensitized, like loud music dulls the hearing. If Zinyak had only used fear, the prison would eventually cease to be effective.

No, the worst of it was the hope. It had been dangled in front of him like a life vest to a drowning man. Hope of being rescued, of the fear ceasing, of escape. Hope was crushing.

Matt's hope had been the moment of peace he experienced when he looked through that keyhole and spied a world where he was comfortable and content with a woman. The image of that world returned to him. The two of them, sitting on the couch, laughing and talking like it was the most normal thing in the world. As he turned the image over in his head, he realized why the face of the woman had looked so familiar.

It had been Rain.

Matt put aside the memory to focus on the task at hand. His chest ached, but he ignored it and monitored Rain's progress and vitals.

He recognized the terrain featured in the simulation. It had been the one-time base of Phillipe Loren that the Saints had claimed for their own. Zinyak was meticulous; everything was recreated as it had existed on Earth, down to the last detail. A menagerie of purple decor was assembled throughout the pad. Rain passed through it, her heart beat steady.

It did not take her long to find her Lieutenant. Pierce Washington was a tall, lanky man. Fashioned of rail thin muscle, Pierce was all angles. When they found him, Pierce was cursing loudly and using those sharp angles to crush the life out of a walking beverage can.

Matt did a double take at the screen. Pierce's worst nightmare was a Saints Flow can? He knew from his research into the gang that Pierce had been the face of the Saints' marketing campaign. Washington's smiling mug was plastered onto every piece of Third Street Saints merchandise and paraphernalia. Amongst the sea of products the Saints produced was the internationally acclaimed "Saints Flow" energy drink. Even in England, commercials were aired starring Pierce Washington drinking copious amounts of Saints Flow to accomplish any number of athletic feats. Matt laughed loudly and was immediately grateful that the Lieutenant could not hear him.

When Pierce noticed the President's arrival, his body visibly relaxed. He slung his weapon across his shoulder and let out a rich greeting. "Boss, am I glad to see you!"

"Your worst fear is marketing gone bad?" Rain quipped, unable to resist. Matt considered it odd how similarly they thought. She grinned and pulled Pierce into a brief hug.

Pierce released her, and reloaded a clip into his handgun. "Bad? Boss, these things are trying to KILL ME!"

Together, they moved deeper into the Saints' crib. Matt noted that they shared a relationship founded on ribald jokes and teasing. Though more of the Saints Flow attackers confronted them, the two friends bantered like it were a normal Sunday afternoon.

They had not gotten far when a deep rumbling struck the building. Shelves sent their cache of priceless sculptures and tasteless magazines tumbling to the floor.

"Was that an earthquake?" Rain asked, steadying herself.

Matt checked the programming. An anomaly, a very.. large anomaly, was causing a disturbance just outside the building. "Be prepared for anything, Rain." He warned through the headset.

Pierce winced in recognition and took off at a sprint towards the back bedrooms. "Come on, we're going to need more guns!"

Rain had grown fond of the "super powers" appropriated from the Zin wardens. The result of the stolen code was spectacular: Rain could freeze her enemies and smash them to bits, like they had been doused with liquid nitrogen and then blown apart. Matt suspected it brought her pleasure to use the weapon that Zinyak had designed for her captors to torture her. Matt's pulse raced to watch her in action.

The soda cans came in packs, wielding guns, knives and bats. One lunged at Pierce with a butterfly knife, forcing the Lieutenant to dodge to the side. This opened him up to an attack from behind, where another soda advanced swinging a crow bar. Pierce unloaded his handgun into the open pop tab.

Rain projected a burst of dazzling blue light to intercept the attacker, crystallizing it instantaneously. "That's what I'm talking about!" Pierce whooped triumphantly and side kicked the soda, shattering it into a hail storm of tasty freeze.

The weapons' cache lay at the end of a long hallway. A handful of Saints Flows attempted to bottle Rain and Pierce up, blocking the way. In these close quarters, the Saints were forced into hand to hand combat. Pierce began swinging, bunching his body up like a boxer. Rain crouched down and kicked wildly at legs, forcing several sodas to fall into each other.

When they had cleared a path, they opened the crate containing the arms. Pierce loaded himself down with an absurd amount of guns, stuffing pistols, hand grenades and machine guns into every available space on his person.

Rain crossed her arms over her chest in mild amusement, watching him stuff several firearms into his pants.

Pierce looked back over his shoulder. "Woman, I told you we need more guns!"

The President lifted both hands out in front of her and laughed. "I think you're strapped for the both of us."

Her Lieutenant shook his head derisively. "Oh yeah, you're laughing now, but when that _thing_ shows up, play time's gonna' be over."

The two of them moved beyond the hallway to what had to have been Pierce's quarters. Large posters and life size pop art all featuring the Lieutenant's face covered nearly every available surface on the wall.

Pierce opened another case of weapons and started gathering more arms. Pale amber light streamed into the room from the tall glass windows that flanked the bed. Beyond the glass came a sudden penetrating, inhuman scream that sent tremors through the building. Something outside momentarily blocked out the light from the sun.

Rain's mouth gaped open as she stared out the windows. "Pierce, was that a giant hand I saw out there?" Disbelief colored her voice.

"I TOLD you we needed bigger guns!" Pierce shouted, flabbergasted.

Eying whatever awaited them outside, Rain joined Pierce at the box and started grabbing weapons.

A Saints Flow can charged them from behind, spraying bullets left and right.

"Down, Boss!" Pierce commanded, ducking behind the weapons' crate. Rain threw herself to the side to avoid the bullets that peppered the floor around her.

"Didn't want to blow up the crib, but-" Pierce lobbed something small and round towards the soda can and covered his ears. The small explosion that followed threw the can with such force that it left a gaping hole in the wall with smoke pouring out of it.

"This way!" He pulled Rain to her feet and headed into the passageway that had been opened up by the grenade.

A medium sized room awaited them. Matt could see that the furniture inside was characterized by soft curves and rounded edges. Rain took one step in and then seemed to reconsider.

"Uh, let's go around another way." She hesitated.

"Say what? There _is _no other way, Boss. You're the only one keeps a rocket launcher in their room." Pierce said, pushing forward into the chamber. He began to dig through the various weapon racks mounted on the wall.

Matt expected to see more _purple_ in the innermost sanctum of the leader of Saints. True to the gang colors, there were splashes of the color. A shade of eggplant carpet covered the floor and select upholstered chairs were done in lilac. Other than that, what he mostly saw was _blue. _Azure sheets were piled atop the queen size bed. Cerulean and orchid curtains framed a glass door leading to the pool deck.

Matt noted that Rain's heart beat was beginning to rise. He wondered what it was that was causing her anxiety. Her pulse had been regular throughout the explosions, the shaking building and whatever had been outside. "Everything alright?" He asked through the headset.

"Come on, Pierce. Grab it and let's go!" Rain barked, her voice oddly nervous. She was shifting from foot to foot.

"Well woman, if you didn't have so many guns this wouldn't be a problem. You've got more guns than shoes!" Pierce continued rummaging through the room. "Wait a minute, what's this?"

Rain froze in place. Pierce held up a book. "Pride and Prejudice." He read the spine, which was half broken. The tome had evidently been well loved. Its pages were dog eared and yellow.

"Not sure. Maybe Shaundi's?" Rain suggested, looking like she was ready to bolt.

"Shaundi, reading? I'm pretty sure she'd rather get with Berk than flip through a novel." Pierce raised his eyebrows at Rain.

"Is now really the time for this?" Rain whined, looking out the gaping hole in the wall for something to kill.

"Oh _now_ you want to be serious. But when soda cans are trying to kill me, it's fun and games. I see how it is." Pierce was waving his hands around in gesticulation, still holding the book. As he did, something shook loose from the pages and fell onto the floor.

Rain let out a long groan. Even from the screen, Matt could see that it was a faded pink star.

His breath caught in his throat. It belonged to him. Matt had worn that on his jacket throughout his tenure in Steelport. When Miller had fled the Syndicate, he had severed many ties, worried that Killbane and the Saints would change their mind and hunt him down. That had been one of the symbols of his past that he had left behind.

Why would Rain have kept that? Kept and _hidden_ it away, Matt amended.

"What.. is this?" Pierce let out an incredulous chuckle that quickly crescendoed into a guffaw. He gripped his sides, which was difficult with all the weapons hanging from him. "Tell me this doesn't belong to that Decker boy. What was his name? Melissa M-"

"Pierce.. if you finish that sentence, with God as my witness I will finish you." The President hissed. She stalked across the room and angrily yanked the rocket launcher out of the same cabinet from which the book had come. Her heart was racing wildly.

Matt did not have time to dissect what he had seen. A loud crashing sound erupted on the deck. Hefting the RPG onto her shoulder, Rain yanked the glass door open.

The pool deck looked like a crime scene. Broken lounge chairs and were gutted where they lay. The remnants of a wet bar covered the deck in broken glass and tile.

Miller knew from experience as Asha's handler not to distract warriors from a battle unless absolutely necessary. He watched with restless energy, constantly scanning code for unseen threats.

Pierce joined her in a dead sprint, shouting. "Look out! Here comes Paul!"

Suddenly Hummer sized hands gripped the deck railing. Something monstrously large and purple ascended the building, towering over them.

"Paul?" Rain yelled back at Pierce. Paul was a Saints Flow can that made the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man look like a child's toy. It let out a deafening screech that was painful even for Matt.

"Shoot them rockets at him already!" Pierce howled.

Spotting Pierce, Paul's eyes began to glow a fiery red and then erupted in lasers. The President ducked behind a partition just in time and dropped to one knee to load a rocket. The deck surrounding the partition simply melted, sending a shower of sparks and flames five feet into the air. "Why do those things always have eye beams?" She screamed over the blast.

Slapping the rocket in place, Rain climbed to her feet and deliberately moved into position in full view of the giant soda can. The monster energy drink stretched out a giant fist to crush her, his mouth wide open in another scream.

"Open wide, Paul." The rocket streaked forward out of Rain's launcher and into Paul's cavernous face, leaving a white incandescent trail in its wake.

Pierce's bawdy laughter echoed over the battlefield, which only enraged the giant soda. A flood of red hot lasers scorched the deck. Paul began to pound the building with his hands, sending concrete and pool water flying.

Rain threw herself beside her Lieutenant in the shelter of an awning. Pierce rammed another rocket into the RPG just in time to see the awning ripped away. With a great swat, Paul sent the Saints flying a good twenty feet into the air. Pierce disappeared over a billboard and Rain's body hurtled into the side of a building at bone breaking speed. She slid down the brick edifice and crumpled, motionless, as the RPG clattered nearby.

Matt struck the flat of his palm against the table in frustration. Rain's vitals were stable; she was alive. But he had to do something to slow the beast down, or she would not remain that way for long.

An idea struck him. Matt's keys tapped feverishly as he coded a "while loop". Paul's body stalled, buying him precious seconds.

"Rain, get up." The hacker all but screamed into the headset. "Get up! GET UP, you psychotic woman!"

Rain groaned and slowly rose. "Ugh, your voice is so whiney." She stood on shaky limbs and gathered the rocket launcher. "Pierce, are you ok?" She called out.

The radio was silent. Rain swore and raised the RPG to her shoulder, aiming it at Paul.

Just as the while loop wore off, the rocket arced out like lightning, exploding a hole through the soda can's face.

Paul screamed in primal rage and began to close the distance between them. Suddenly the unmistakable thicker-thwap of a helicopter could be heard. A military grade chopper shot through the sky between them, drawing attention away from Rain.

"Pierce is that you?" Rain shouted.

Washington's shrill voice answered back. "Hell yeah! Now kill that can!"

"Last rocket, Matt." Rain said as she lined up her shot. The rocket blazed through the sky and struck the can squarely in his lettering.

Matt had been working furiously ever since the while loop had worn off. "I think I know how you can defeat Paul." He said triumphantly.

"Oh, good." The President exhaled and ducked under a road barrier that Paul had thrown her way. The helicopter circled the giant soda, distracting him from a direct attack.

"I'll need you to get to the island with the big statue on it." Matt said as he typed away. "Bring Paul with you."

"Got it." She said and signaled Pierce to land. Washington guided the helicopter down, no easy feat in the midst of the chaos Paul was causing. With a running jump, Rain boarded. "Can you fly us to the island?" She shouted over the noise of the engine.

The helicopter lifted into the air, banking towards the distant island off Steelport's bay. "Yeah, but we're not going to outrun Paul." Pierce replied as the buildings beneath them grew smaller.

Rain pointed towards the location in the distance. "All good. Miller has a plan."

"Miller? Miller who?" Pierce asked and then began to laugh again. "Oh Melissa?!"

"Tell him I can _hear_ him." Matt said irritably.

"Pierce, Matt says he'll crash our helicopter again if you don't shut it."

Washington raised his eyebrows. "Oh does he? Alright, I'll remember that one." Pierce had to bank sharply to the right to avoid Paul as the monster gave chase.

"Got it." Rain said and lifted a machine gun from over her Lieutenant's shoulder. She took up position at the fuselage door and began firing in Paul's direction.

They landed just ahead of the soda monstrosity on the small island. It was not much larger than a football field and its landscape was dominated only by a large statue. This sculpture was fashioned 100 feet tall in the image of a ladle wielding steelworker hero, Joe Magorac. "Matt?" Rain called as she crawled out of the chopper.

"Right, now get inside the statue." Miller managed between coding. He only needed to alter one more line and..

Rain gestured to the giant statue and she and Pierce booked it to the base of the sculpture, Paul hot on their heels.

"Got it!" Matt said to no one in particular. No sooner had they passed into the doorway at the base of the statue than it suddenly animated. Steel groaned and ripped free from concrete.

"Matt.. you're brilliant." Rain commented, awestruck.

"Glad you like it." He replied into the headset, a genuine smile escaping his lips.

At Rain's command, Joe Magorac surged forward, closing the distance between itself and Paul. With a mighty swing of the ladle, the statue connected with Paul's head.

"That's right, Joe. Kick his aluminum ass!" Pierce cheered loudly.

Joe swung like a lumberjack, putting his entire steel frame behind each movement. Paul recovered, aiming a massive kick at the steel giant.

The metal hero staggered for only a moment, then swung for the bleachers. Again and again, the ladle struck Paul with all the force of working class America.

The soda can crumpled, its knees splashing into the bay, exposing its neck.

"Don't worry, Paul. I'll pour one out for you." Rain quipped as the statue reached a steely glove up and ripped open the pop tab on Paul's head. Injured, the can was incapable of preventing the statue from lifting him high overhead. Paul's life blood, Saints Flow, gushed like a river from the open pop tab.

"Let's make a monument." Pierce said triumphantly. Rain tossed the can high into the air. It landed on the base of Joe's statue, crippled and dying. Paul let out a piteous mewl and was no more.

"You ready to get out of here?" Rain said after she and Pierce had basked in their victory.

"Yeah, can't WAIT to get back to Earth." Her Lieutenant replied.

The statue winced. "Right. Forgot to tell you, Earth got blown up." Rain said it matter-of-factually.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, we live on a space ship now." Rain was blunt. "It's a long story. Ready Matt?"

Matt made a noise of assent as he prepared to terminate the program.

"Listen, Pierce. In a minute you're going to wake up on a ship with some ugly guys. Don't sweat though, we'll be there before you know it. Keith is already honing in on your ship."

Pierce took the news surprisingly well. ".. .. .. There better be some ladies on this ship."


	13. Sleeping Arrangements

Having Pierce Washington on board the S.S. Freckle Bitch's lifted the morale of the crew. What had formerly been a quiet, pensive ship, transformed into one filled with laughter and mirth, some of it real.

Pierce's first step on board the space ship was to throw a party. Partying had always been the Lieutenant's coping strategy of choice. Even after Johnny Gat's death, Pierce had thrown a lavish party to cheer the crew up. He spared no expense on the finest drinks, entertainment, and company. That made throwing a party on the space ship difficult, since there was a shortage of all three.

He was not without resources, though. With CID's help, Pierce piped music stored in the simulation throughout the ship. Rations were dispensed with flair and he even cajoled them into dancing. Their spirits improved greatly.

With all of this going on, Matt had not yet had time to speak with Rain about what he had seen in the simulation.

The questions of how she had gotten his star pin and why she had kept it burned a hole in his mind. He wanted more than anything to get an answer to that. Twice he had to stop himself from blurting it out in front of the others. He had turned the incident over in his head again and again. If she had kept that memento of his, the implication was either that she despised him, or that.. she had feelings for him. The idea scorched him as clearly as a brand.

Whatever the answer was, Rain did not appear to be the least bit hurried in answering. At the party, she spent a good amount of time catching up with Pierce.

While she was momentarily occupied with Keith David, Pierce drew Matt aside under the pretext of fetching more food.

The Lieutenant struck up conversation as they walked the angular hallway to the rations alcove. "You know, the Boss used to be a bad ass." He said with no introduction.

"I would say she still is." Matt replied and wondered if he were walking into a trap of some sort.

They rounded a bend in the catwalk and kept going, the sounds of the party slowly fading.

"Oh she's legit' alright. Ain't nobody I'd want on my side if not her. But Boss used to be bad_ass. _I mean hardcore street." Pierce made a snapping noise with his long fingers as he moved, like he was in a hurry to get back to the party. Despite his restless energy, Pierce's voice was weighted with solemnity. "When I say she put d_own_ whoever crossed her, I'm being literal. Boss was cold. Didn't matter who it was; if they messed with the Saints, Boss took care of it."

Miller knew Pierce was not exaggerating. He had done a lot of research on Rain Franklin during his time with MI6. Rain had executed many rival gang leaders as the Third Street Saints rose to power.

Pierce gave him a hard look from the corner of his eye. "So I've been asking myself something ever since my boy Johnny died."

Matt did not quite wince, but he came close. The hacker had been employed by the Syndicate when their leader, Phillipe Loren, had killed Johnny in an attempt to get to Rain.

"I've been asking myself," Washington continued, "why the boss went soft and let you live."

Miller had been asking himself the same thing for a very long time. During the height of the Syndicate's power, Matt had drained the Saints' bank accounts and had almost killed them by hacking the electronics in the helicopter they had been riding in. With his rap sheet, combined with his indirect role in Gat's death, it was surprising that Rain had not killed him when she had caught him.

"I offered her contacts with the local arms dealers to make her war less expensive." He said and immediately knew the excuse was flimsy. His offer had been useful, sure. But Rain Franklin could have taken it with ease.

"Nah." Pierce agreed with Matt's silent doubts. "Maybe, since she let Viola off the hook too, she wanted to burn the Syndicate down with the hands that built it. Poetic justice an' all that." He continued to look sideways at Matt, who said nothing.

Matt did not get Rain's undivided attention until after the party had calmed down and the crew was dispersing to their stations. Matt had wandered back to the cargo bay and was just pulling out the couch bed. It was an ancient contraption with hard metal springs. The mattress had half collapsed into the frame and it creaked horribly whenever Matt rolled over in the night.

"Hey."

Matt turned around to find the leader of the Saints behind him. She stood leaning one hip against the wall. Matt nodded to her.

"So we should probably redistribute sleeping arrangements." She said with a jerk of her head towards the alcoves.

"Oh?" He paused in the act of unfolding the accordion-like bedding.

"Mmhm." Rain said, her expression nonchalant. "Pierce had a rough prison sentence. I'm giving him the couch in the recreation room to recuperate. Just for tonight."

Several things flashed through Matt's head, creating a cacophony of jumbled images and emotions. "But that's where you sleep.." He said after a moment, not entirely sure how hostile his voice came off. What was she driving at, coming in and telling him this?

Rain cocked her head to the side and studied him intently. When she spoke, her tone was purposefully casual. "Well, you know he is whiny. I thought the rec room might be more comfortable than CID's place, what with this being his first night and the Earth being blown up."

Matt forced himself to begin making the bed again. Mechanically, he set the pillows in place and spread out the blanket, doing his best not to look at the President. "So you and he-" Matt stopped himself and began again. "Where does that put you?"

The woman crossed to the freshly made sheets and sat down. "I was thinking right here." She replied. The response caught him off guard.

Matt felt like his stomach had dropped out of his midsection. His eyes snapped up to get a read on the woman beside him. Immediately the sea of images simplified into one.

She smiled impishly and winked. "Relax, I'm not going to rob you of your virtue. Just share some of this _luxurious_ memory foam mattress."

Rain flopped down on the mattress, causing it to squeak something fierce, and immediately wrapped the covers around her.

Matt's disappointment was keen. He sat down on the edge of the couch, his heart thudding with the ferocity of a wadaiko drum.

The ship hummed quietly, a soothing lull. Light from a distant star tinged the room in ethereal blue light.

Lying back, Matt laced his fingers behind his head. Rain was turned away from him, lying absolutely still. Matt closed his eyes and rolled over in frustration. Letting Pierce sleep in her bed seemed like a paltry excuse to crawl into his. Yet her close proximity was maddening. To be inches away and yet separated by .. by what? Matt suddenly rebelled against the idea.

"I don't like games. I want to know why you kept it." He said with his back to her.

A period of silence so long followed the confession that he thought she must have already fallen asleep. Then the tell-tale squeak of box springs interrupted the silence. A solidly built but decidedly feminine arm snaked under his own and wrapped around his chest. Rain scooted herself forward to fit the curve of his body.

"I don't like games either." She said softly into his ear. "I kept your star for the same reason that I let you live in Steelport."

Matt felt electric. His limbs began to tingle as his brain sent out a message of pleasure. He waited for several seconds for further explanation, suddenly fearing that the moment would end. The seconds turned into what seemed like an age.

"And that is?" He finally asked when he could bear it no longer.

A small snore was his only answer. Matt turned his head slightly to look over at her. Rain Franklin had curled up against him. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. This time she really had fallen asleep.

Matt felt peace. Lying there with Rain, the two factions in Matt's mind warring for supremacy over whether or not to give in to his feelings were silenced.

He listened to Rain's breathing, marveling at how easily she could fall asleep and stay that way. The dull ache in his chest that had troubled him earlier came back, but the sensation was now undeniably pleasant. Wrapped in her arms, Matt began to feel that the scene of the two of them on the couch, laughing and watching television, might just be possible. Hope blossomed and opened up like a budding flower.

After several hours, Matt still had not slept. Memories of the real world slowly pressed icy fingers into the happy moment. There was much work to be done. Matt had a list of names to isolate in the Zin's holding cells. If the Saints were going to be successful, they needed a long list of talent on their side. The cold reality forced him out of bed.

Matt looked back at Rain. Still asleep, she wrapped herself around Matt's pillow and sighed.

A bright smile broke out over Matt's lips.

But there was work to do. Miller left the comfortable, even blissful, cargo room to head to the ship's bridge. He needed to check Keith's star charts to compare the possible locations of the Zin armada with some of the information he had been finding. On his way he cast a cursory glance into the recreation room where Rain's bed was.

Pierce was nowhere near it.


	14. Come Again Another Day

Over the next several days, Matt was kept extremely busy. He had been searching for Asha Odekar's cell in the Zin simulation since he had joined the crew. But only now was it possible, with CID's help, to isolate her.

The British spy was the last face Matt had seen before the abduction. Over the five years that they had worked together, the two had grown quite close. Of course, Miller recognized mentally the attractiveness of her features. Asha was physically fit from her years in the service. Her face was rendered pleasant by very large, intelligent green eyes and full lips. However, the fact that Matt had met her when he possessed fully half her years coupled with their professional relationship ensured that there would never be anything between them romantically. Even if he had wanted that to change, Asha was entirely devoted to her work. She would never let romantic feelings compromise her ability to complete the mission.

Bargaining with CID for her location once again proved troublesome. In exchange for his services, CID demanded something Matt was utterly incapable of delivering: a date with Rain. After CID's advances were rebuffed by Kenzi, he had once more turned his attention on the leader of the Saints. Matt's influence over Rain may have grown, but there was no way he had that kind of clout yet. He needed to enlist her help.

Matt entered the bridge. Rain leaned over the pilot console, looking out into the vastness of space. The glow of the monitors cast a charming light on the curve of her frame. She looked over and smiled.

"Rain." He said in greeting.

Nothing new had happened since the night Rain had conned her way onto the couch bed. True to her word, it had only been for the one night. Matt had not bothered to confront her with the truth: that he knew she had played a trick. If he was entirely truthful with himself, he would admit that he had not minded the deception. On the contrary, he began to fear that night would be the last of its kind.

Matt was more than a bit nervous. His friend's freedom depended on his ability to convince Rain that risking her life to free her was worth it. He stood before her, his posture stiff in concentration. "I've been thinking, we need to free Asha Odekar." Rain listened to him intently. Encouraged by this, Matt pressed forward. "Asha is immensely useful as an intelligence operative. She is a veteran strategist and highly skilled in combat."

A pensive frown creased the President's features. "I was thinking the same thing."

Matt's posture relaxed. "Oh you were?"

Rain straightened and walked towards him. "Well sure. You two have report. You worked with her in MI6. You trust her, right?"

Matt nodded.

Rain shifted her weight onto one hip, shortening the distance between them. "That's good enough for me. What do we need to find her?"

Miller winced slightly. Now came the awkward part. "Ah- CID can obtain the information for a price."

"Ok, great. What is it?" She bumped her hip into him, causing him to have to rebalance himself.

Matt let out a nervous chuckle. "Ah, he wants you to go on a date with him."

Rain blinked. "Come again?"

"He likes women. A lot. I'm not entirely sure how, since he has no physical body. I've told him no, don't worry."

A look of amusement flitted across her face for a moment. "That's too bad. I've always had a thing for machines. Now I suppose there's no taking it back." She winked and walked past him, brushing her shoulder against him as she did.

Matt followed her down the hall to CID's alcove. When they entered, Matt noticed that CID had somehow managed to tweak the lighting to be a dusty pink. Music filtered through the speaker located on the floating mech, something with a deep beat and a soulful male vocalist.

"Yo, CID." Rain called out.

"Greetings the one they call Rain Franklin. You are looking very lovely today." CID said in a monotone voice. His optic sensors lit up almost happily.

Rain sat down on the only seating available in the room. "Mmm yeah. CID let's cut to the chase."

"Directness is preferable." CID's optic plate traveled up and down. "Shall we start with a massage?"

The president pursed her lips slightly and made an ambiguous shrug of one shoulder. "CID, I need your help finding Asha and Matt tells me you know where she is."

CID bounced up and down in agreement and a compartment on his body slid open. Several rather alarming peripherals slid out and the male vocalist grew louder. His mechanical body swiveled to face the hacker. "Matt Miller, I will not require your assistance."

Rain curled a lip up disdainfully. "Yeah ok. This isn't working for me. Put that away." She stood up and crossed her arms. "Put it all away."

Functions retracted, compartments closed. Music and lights returned to their normal setting. "I am disappointed." CID said, though his tone was as perfunctory as usual.

"You'll live." Rain said and rubbed her hands on the front of her suit as if trying to clean them off. "Look CID, I tell you what. You help me out with Asha's location, I'll take you to the finest gentleman's club in all of virtual Steelport."

"Overrated." CID retorted.

"I will let you date Asha." Rain fired back with another offer.

"She won't agree to that." Matt said dryly.

"I will rip out your circuits!" She hissed, having run out of options.

"The gentleman's club will suffice." CID accepted the original offer without hesitation.

The President relaxed her posture, uncrossing her arms. "Good. Now where is Asha?"

Matt walked through the simulation with her. It felt odd to be on the ground, so to speak. He was used to the distance provided by the computer screen.

Here, in Rain's world, things were different. Everything certainly _felt_ real. Cars buzzed by them, stirring gusts of wind; heat rose up from the concrete. A smoky scent of barbeque wafted from some restaurant a block away. Passersby moved as if they actually had a purpose. The illusion could have fooled the most keen of observers.

"You'll have to be careful." He said to Rain as they entered the patio of the Broken Shillelagh. He had manipulated the graphic information for his avatar to depict him in his old Decker gear. He shoved his hands deep into his leather jacket to reassure himself. "Don't underestimate how dangerous the mind of a super spy can be." Truth be told, he was nervous for the success of this mission. It was not that he did not think Rain capable of the task, but he cared for both parties enough to be anxious. Asha's neural signal had been very guarded.

"'Super spy?'" Rain scoffed. "Jesus, Matt. I get that you have the hots for her, but you don't have to build her a pedestal." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

The statement caught Matt off guard. He looked over at the woman. Rain had one hand on the door of the pub and was eyeing him flatly. He had never suspected her of jealousy before. Perhaps he should explore it. "That is beside the point." Miller responded as if he had been wounded by her comment.

Rain's lips twisted upwards into a perverse smile. "Relax, Matt. Just messin' with you. I'm pretty sure she's 90% glacier anyways. Catch you later." She winked one eye and ducked into the open door, into the nexus of simulations.

Matt exited the program quickly in order to get back to the controls. Waking up was always jarring, like he had been kicked in the gut in the middle of a sound sleep.

By the time he had sat down at the control console, Rain was already engaged in the simulation. Odekar's prison was fashioned in the eerie likeness of a seedy dive bar. The establishment had seen its better days. Stools and furnishings were draped in jagged ripped fabric, like battle scars. A beaten counter top stretched across the back half of the bar, displaying guns and dirty bottles of booze. An overworked sink appeared to be vomiting glasses and plates. Flickering fluorescent lighting gave the pallid appearance of a gas station restroom. Matt had no way of registering scent, but he could only imagine the odor coming off of the unwashed dishes and burgeoning ash trays.

It looked as if a hurricane had come through. The bar's occupants were in various stages of a tussle. Some huddled under tables while others lay unconscious in myriad poses. Rain was easy to pick out in the chaos. Matt had designed Rain's avatar graphics specifically for this mission. He admired the smooth contours of his handiwork as it shifted about in pixelated form.

Over the past few years, Odekar had been nursing a growing suspicion and distaste for the President. When Asha had first become aware of Rain Franklin, she was apathetic to the woman's erratic tendencies and often reckless disregard for others. But it was one thing to be the leader of a gang in America and quite another to be the President of the United States. Asha had conducted briefings on how much of a liability Rain Franklin had become to the world. Matt needed to have Rain visually play a certain part if she was to gain Asha's trust.

He had constructed the graphics carefully. Tactical armor, similar to the kind Rain had worn in the mission to take down Cyrus, covered the President's body from chin to toe. Asha was a woman of battle; she understood war and death. Stealth gear would be something she would appreciate.

"Matt, what am I wearing?" Rain seemed to have noticed the extra work he had put in.

"Oh, just something to smooth things out between you and Asha. You should see what your face looks like." He said, thinking it would reassure her.

"What did you do to my face?!" Rain immediately lifted her hands to her features to check them. Matt had taken particular pleasure in coding brighter pixels into her face. He had rearranged her dark hair back, to be sure every feature was revealed. He wasn't sure any of it would help with Odekar, but he wasn't going to take the chance.

"She's just a little concerned about you." He spoke in his calmest voice.

Something loud and large crashed through the back door of the bar. A man in battle gear came hurtling through the portal, followed by a slimmer figure that darted after him.

The smaller figure, a woman with exotic features, neatly braided dark hair and luminous green eyes, stood over the inert man. She kicked him savagely, then bent down and hauled him up. With surprising strength, she delivered another searing kick that sent him crashing backwards into a ramshackle pool table. Without allowing the poor fellow time to recover, she leaned her weight on one forearm across the back of the man's neck, pinning him to the table's felt surface.

"Tell me where he is." Asha's distinct British accent growled. A wave of relief surged through Matt. It had been weeks since he had last seen his companion. It was good to lay eyes on her. "Last chance." She hissed.

Rather than give up the information Asha was seeking, the man aimed an insult at her and struggled to escape her vice-like grip.

Odekar pulled her gun free from her hip and pointed it at the man. The gun barked once and was silent. Asha's eyes turned coldly away from the fresh corpse and rested upon Rain. The spy walked around the pool table towards her. Her stride was feline in its grace.

"You're like Johnny Gat with better hair." Rain commented. Perhaps she had meant it as a compliment; Matt knew the President and her Lieutenant had been extremely close. The statement only angered Asha, however.

"I am _nothing_ like Johnny Gat." Asha spat rudely, holding her head up high as she approached the President. Matt noted nervously that she was still holding her gun up.

Rain's heart rate spiked on the monitor for a moment before returning to a steady beat. She sighed audibly and looked upwards. "Fair, Gat was never self righteous."

"Don't you _dare_ confuse duty with self righteousness." Asha continued to stalk towards her, stopping only a few inches from Rain's face. Matt winced and had to restrain himself from saying something. Even though Asha could not hear him, coming between the two women was not exactly on his to do list.

"Right, cuz' those two never overlap." The boss of the Saints fired back sarcastically.

The two women squared off. Asha Odekar was not a small woman. In her combat boots, she stood nearly 5'10 in height. Every inch of her had been trained and honed to combat-perfection. She certainly cut an imposing figure. Matt was not as familiar with Rain as he was with Asha. Even so, he knew enough about the President to believe she would not back down from a challenge.

"Says the _President of the United States." _Asha said furiously. It wasn't like her to lose her cool in the middle of a mission. Matt didn't think he had ever heard so much venom in the spy's voice. He silently wondered what the Zin had been doing to her these long weeks. As he listened to the two bicker, a sensation akin to a cold iron rod being inserted into his spine slowly invaded his nervous system.

The dispute did not continue long. A filthy man in an equally squalid suit crawled out from behind the bar and threw himself onto Rain. The President glided her shoulder to one side to allow the man to roll past her. Unable to catch himself, the attacker flew by her. As he did, Rain grabbed his arm and bent it at a painful angle. With a grunt, the dirty man slammed into the counter of the bar. The President did not stop there, but used the man's momentum to shove her attacker into a gratuitous amount of bottles that had been left out. The effect was rather comical, though the attacker was not conscious to appreciate it. He collapsed into a heap at the foot of the bar.

A hydraulic whine sounded somewhere nearby. The pool table behind them slid across the floor as if it had been on wheels, revealing an unseen trapdoor. Rain and Asha exchanged a tense look. Matt wondered whether the new passageway or their argument held more appeal in the women's eyes.

At last Asha made a move for the trapdoor. "You coming or what?" She shot a frosty glance over her shoulder, descending the staircase to whatever lay below. Matt had seen that look before. She had that same look of steely determination in Beirut. During that mission, Asha and another operative had been working to undermine a network of terrorists who had been planning a strike on visiting diplomats. During the fire fight that ensued, Asha's companion had had his legs blown off. Odekar had stopped just long enough to wrap a tourniquet around the fallen British spy's limbs, then, with fire in her eyes, finished the mission alone.

She wore that same look now. Matt knew that nothing could dissuade her from leaving now, not even Rain riding to the rescue.

"You're going to have to go with her." Matt urged from his headset. "Asha won't leave until what she views as her duty is finished."

Rain grunted in annoyance and began to follow after the spy. "Who are you looking for anyways?" She called after Asha.

Odekar's look could have doused a fire. "Your evil twin."

Matt coughed. He was not entirely sure he had heard Asha correctly. Rain must have been thinking along a similar line. "Hold up. An evil twin?" She queried as soon as she had caught up with the spy.

The area beneath the trapdoor spread out in a serpentine series of underground passages. Lemon colored light cut through the darkness in murky pools that cast long shadows. The bar had been a cover for a military bunker.

"I thought it was better than saying I've been sent to kill evil you." Asha answered at last. The two advanced down the catwalk, guns at the ready.

Asha moved carefully, sticking to the edges of the light. Humoring her, Rain mimicked the spy's gait and shuffled forward in a half crouch. After they had gone on like this for several minutes, Rain broke the silence. "So tell me about this evil twin."

Odekar swept her gaze continuously from left to right. "Best intelligence shows Codename: Mr. X is preparing a full assault against her own nation. I've been tasked with making sure she doesn't succeed." The catwalk came to an end at a pair of heavy metal doors. Asha moved immediately to the control panel on the wall to open them.

"Oooh, sounds serious." Rain said with biting sarcasm as she watched Asha work. "Mr. X? You know I'm a girl, right?"

The doors slid open, revealing a vast honeycomb network of chambers. Matt marveled at the coding that had been used in the simulation. Security was stitched into the very fabric of the bunker. Zinyak clearly did not desire for Asha to ever escape.

Odekar held up two fingers and flicked them forward, signaling for Rain to take point. The President halfheartedly flashed the gesture back and moved forward.

Within a matter of meters, the earthen walls of the catwalks had solidified into concrete. The women moved more cautiously now. "Careful, there's a guard ahead." Odekar warned in a low voice.

Rain peered ahead of them, her gun at the ready. The pathway narrowed to skirt a glass office. Even from their distance, the pale fluorescent light made the single guard that occupied the office visible. His back was to them, creating the perfect opportunity to take him out. "One guy? No problem."

Asha gave her counterpart a hard look. The hostility between them had relaxed its hold. "Let's do this without drawing attention, yeah? Shoot those lights ahead."

The President looked at Asha sidelong. "Why would I waste two bullets on those lights when I can just use one on the guard?"

Matt cleared his throat audibly. "Rain, you want to gain her trust. Asha believes you're too reckless. If you do things her way, you can prove her wrong."

The leader of the Saints sighed. "When I'm done with this, remind me to give you something."

"What was that?" Asha asked, sotto voice.

Rather than answer, Rain brought her gun up and put a bead on the lights. Matt had been sure to equip her with a suppressor for this mission. The bullets thudded into the lights without fanfare, causing the corridor ahead to darken dramatically.

"Good work." Asha conceded and led the way in a crouch. "Let's sneak past this guard. Careful, stay out of the light."

Rain scoffed derisively. "We're not_ vampires_ in this world, are we?" The spy made no reply. In a complete mood reversal, she seemed not to mind the acerbic barbs aimed at her. The stealth and mission had refocused her, even relaxed her. Matt even spied a smile on her lips.

The pair approached the glass paneling, stepping carefully over the remnants of the lights on the floor. Within the office, the soldier stared out at them. Without the light, though, he could not see the forms slinking through the darkness.

They rounded a corner in the pathway, leaving the office behind. The corridor began to widen, spilling eventually into a warehouse. Crates and packages were stacked in a rather absurd way, creating choke points and blind spots. Guards paced linear paths between the stacks. Asha gestured wordlessly to the lights illuminating the room.

"Asha, that light has a family." Rain quipped and dispatched it. "Does this place not have light switches?"

Odekar pointed to the guards, now vulnerable in the darkness. Rain grinned wickedly and looked down the sight of her gun. Several soft pops followed and the guards withered where they stood.

It went on that way for some time: Asha advising the cautious road and Rain obligingly consenting. They weaved through patrols and air conditioning ducts, slaying lights wherever they could be found, constantly drawing nearer to the heart of the compound. Their movements began to match each other, becoming synchronized. Rain anticipated Asha's movements, carrying out her orders almost as if they had been fighting together for months. Matt had to admit that it was a thing of beauty to behold.

"Now can we talk about why you have to kill me again?" Rain asked when they had reached another door.

Asha Odekar did not quite make eye contact. She busied herself, instead, punching codes into the door control. "You'll find out soon enough." She said at length.

The door hissed open. A bizarre scene was revealed. Before them lay a glass wall, nearly three inches think. It appeared to be a laboratory of some sort. Industrial metal shelving housed a slew of beakers and glassware. Foremost in the lab was a pod, strikingly similar to the Zin prison cells. Something was suspended in the pod. _Human, _Matt thought. The figure seemed eerily familiar.

"Asha.. is that a person?" Rain echoed his thoughts. "What kind of facility is this exactly?"

Again, Asha would not quite look at her. "You'll see." Was her cryptic reply as she pushed ahead.

The lab fell behind and was replaced by a storage facility the size of a football field. Crates lined nearly every surface not used for walking. This was hardly an efficient way to manage a storage area, but the simulation need not be realistic. Several soldiers guarded the labyrinthine path forward.

Asha held up her fist and halted. She assessed the situation quickly, spotting appropriate camouflage. Two empty boxes lay discarded nearby. They were the perfect size to fit the women.

"Okay." Odekar whispered. "We'll use the boxes to disguise our movements. We'll have to move slowly or risk being caught. Avoid the guards at all costs."

Rain gave Asha, the boxes, and the guards a dubious look. "Yeah.. I'm just going to kill them." She admitted.

"You're what?" Asha blurted. And before Odekar could stop her, Rain had dived under a box and begun the long crawl through the maze.

Rain's movements were undoubtedly less stealthy than Asha would have liked. Matt had once seen the spy remain in one place for twelve hours, not moving a single muscle, as she acclimated to a hiding spot. In contrast, Rain was ham fisted. Nevertheless, even Asha had to appreciate how effective the President was. Whenever Rain had maneuvered into a position within arm's reach of a guard, she exploded out of the protective cover of the box and silenced him with a well-placed knife.

They abandoned cover when the room narrowed and came to a point through a single corridor. Standing as a formidable barrier between them and the exit was a spider's web of motion detecting light beams.

Rain stared at it stupidly, then looked up as if she could see Matt. "How in the hell are we going to get past that?"

Miller leaned forward. He had watched Asha enough to know that acrobatics were a necessity in cases like this. Rain was going to have to bend, twist and turn various parts of her body to get through. It was about to get very intriguing.

"I hope you're limber." Asha explained. She pulled one arm across her chest in a stretch to prepare for the task. "Even the slightest disruption of a single beam will send a 2000 volt shock through your entire body. What we'll have to do is move through the gaps in a serpentine pattern."

Rain Franklin tilted her head, then shook it. "You have fun with that. I'm taking the air duct." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to a very large air duct to her right. Asha followed her gaze.

With a well-placed kick, Rain collapsed the flimsy vent cover and ducked inside it. Asha seemed reluctant to follow, but she did.

The duct was narrow and cramped. Dust motes skittered about, kicked up by the passing women. For many moments, there was only the sound of tactical armor sliding across metal. "So, an evil version of me is your worst nightmare?" The President broke the ice.

"How do you mean?" Asha grunted, keeping her mind focused on the task at hand: putting one arm in front of the other and dragging her body forward.

"I mean, according to Kinzie, every person's simulation is based on their deepest darkest fears."

The spy pushed ahead stolidly. "Okay?"

Matt cleared his throat, trying to warn Rain. Pushing Asha was not a good idea. "You fear me being in power more than anything else?" She asked anyways, ignoring Miller.

Asha continued crawling. "Well the extent of your ego is certainly terrifying at times."

"Oh nice. Nice Asha. Real nice."

Matt could not help but smile. Perhaps the Zin had not changed Odekar after all. "Through here." She instructed Rain. The two women dropped through an opening in the duct.

The women were in an empty room. A screen at least ten feet by thirty took up the entirety of one wall. "Stay on guard. Mr. X could be hiding anywhere." Asha warned, adopting the familiar stealthy stance.

As if on dramatic cue, a voice filled the room. "Asha, I thought you knew me better than that." It was a feminine voice that Matt immediately recognized. The screen winked on. A woman that could have been Rain's twin looked out at them. Or rather, Rain's evil twin, as Asha had put it.

The resemblance was remarkable. Her face bore the same aquiline nose, the same firm jaw line and expressive brows. There were differences, however. Jet black, not purple, hair cascaded to "twin" Rain's shoulders; perhaps it was Rain's natural color. Stretching across one hazel orb was a dark eye patch. "Why hide when I can kill your friends in front of you?" The evil Rain snapped her fingers and a pair of off screen lackeys shoved someone forward.

Matt's eyes widened from the space ship. He was looking straight at himself. The virtual version of Matt Miller was dressed as the King of the Deckers, down to the last detail. _Of course,_ Matt thought. _They are using someone she cares about against her. _Matt wondered if he should feel slightly guilty that Asha had not appeared at all in his own simulation.

"Asha, I-" The virtual Matt stammered, trying to call out for help. The sudden roar of a gun silenced him. Mr. X had shot him dead. He collapsed in a lifeless heap.

"Good talk." Mr. X purred. Matt felt odd watching himself die, even a little sick.

Asha turned her face away, saying nothing.

"Wow, you're cold." Rain's twin commented, excitement in her voice. "Aren't you going to cry like a woman?" Miller ached to tell Asha he was alright. He wished desperately to be able to say something her.

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction, Mr. X." Asha looked up. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"Mmm I love it when you talk tough." The villain said with a giggle that was shockingly girlish.

"Then you're going to _love_ me, you piece of crap." The real Rain, the good Rain, shouted and moved out from behind Asha. She had been silent up until now, watching as her "twin" killed "Matt." Miller noted that her heart was racing wildly.

The two Presidents stared at each other. "You." Evil Rain said, infusing the word with vim. The screen abruptly went black.

A previously unseen door slid open, revealing a dark passageway. The two women exchanged glances and entered.

Pods identical to the one from the laboratory lined the path. "What the hell is this place? These are all people." Rain noted uneasily.

Asha barely gave them a passing glance. Matt wondered how many pods she had seen in the weeks since her capture. "They're replications of a highly functional sociopathic paradigm."

"You mean like Hitler?" Rain asked, stopping long enough to look through the frosted glass of a pod at the body behind it. Matt understood before her. It was hard not to recall his own description of Rain Franklin from five years ago.

"It's you." Asha said at last, confirming what Miller suspected.

Rain Franklin swore, staring at herself. Matt watched a range of emotions flit across her features. He longed to say something, but thought it best to remain silent.

"Come on." Odekar urged, pulling firmly on Rain's arm. The two women continued along the path, past innumerable pods.

Several guards were waiting for them at the exit. Both Rain and Asha were done, by now, with their stealthy tactics. Happily they embraced open combat. Perhaps it had been the anger of watching his virtual self executed; Matt could only speculate. An alarm began to sound at a piercing decibel throughout the compound.

Men poured out of every nook and cranny of the bunker. Bullets tore through the air. The two women moved from cover to cover, dropping bodies left and right. They had to find Mr. X.

When they had cleared enough breathing room to speak, Rain took advantage. "Asha, about Matt.."

"I'm not sure what this whole thing is. I know it's not real." Asha interrupted. "But I don't relish watching someone I care about be murdered over and over again. I also don't see a purpose to needless blubbering."

Rain locked eyes with her. "Hey I was just-"

"FOCUS. ON. THE JOB." The spy barked, then shouldered her weapon and rushed forward into the room the slain guards had given their life to protect.

A familiar voice greeted them upon entry. "Look who it is. My favorite 'wanna-be-spy' and her BFF." It was a large room, filled with heavy metallic shipping crates, like the ones barges carried. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here, 'Other Me.' But then I realized, Asha would never be able to do this without some help." Evil Rain said cruelly.

Asha flashed a gesture to Rain. The two women separated, going in opposite directions. They moved through the room in low crouches, attempting to flush out Mr. X.

"Not going to lie." Rain stage whispered to Odekar. "Still not sure how to take the fact that 'evil me' is your version of hell."

"This isn't about you, believe it or not." The spy replied as she kicked open a shipping crate. It was empty. She kept moving.

"Come on. You're fighting an evil me." The leader of the Saints coaxed and fired experimentally into several containers.

From across the room, Asha's bullets echoed Rain's. "That's what you're taking from this, your starring role?" She called out incredulously. "No, Franklin. I keep.. failing at my job. I keep failing. When the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, you can't afford that is my hell."

Matt's heart ached for his friend. _Do your job, Matt. _He reminded himself. _Help her by helping Rain. _

"Oh." Rain said shortly and kept working.

"Find anything?" Asha asked as the two made their way back towards each other again. Rain shook her head.

The sound of slow applause greeted them. "Well, well. You finally managed not to screw the whole thing up." Evil Rain's voice drifted to them from behind a crate. They did not have to wait long. Mr. X strode boldly around the corner, clapping as she approached them. "I suppose I should congratulate you. Before I put a bullet in your head. You're a real Grade A super hero, Asha. That's why you got that crap assignment babysitting a gang of thugs as they hunted down Cyrus Temple. Remember that meeting with your superiors, where they almost stripped you of your rank?"

Rain bared her teeth at her double. "I never did learn to shut up. Let's skip straight to kicking your ass."

The three women raised their weapons and dove for cover. Gunfire erupted. Mr. X possessed all of the President's deadly skill in combat and knew all of her tricks. She took enough risks to be dangerous and not enough mistakes to be an easy target.

"You fail a thousand times, Asha." Mr. X shouted between blasts of gunfire. "You finally decide to bring in help and who do you choose? My _lesser_ half? A sociopath that has never cared about anyone else in her entire life. She didn't even shed a tear when her best friend's girl was beheaded. She _poisons _everything she touches."

Rain shot Asha a look. "Is that what you think of me?" She asked. Was that wounded pride in her voice?

"Keep fighting." Asha commanded, ducking out from a crate to fire a volley of bullets.

"Asha, cover me!" Rain suddenly shouted and sprinted away from the crate she had taken refuge behind.

"Right!" Odekar called back and began firing wildly in Mr. X's direction. Bullets exploded against the metal crate, sending a shower of sparks upward. Rain used the diversion to approach her doppelganger. Rain burst around the corner; Mr. X was crouching low to avoid the bullets flying her way. They both looked at each other.

The President held up her gun. "Come again another day." Rain said in a sing song voice and squeezed the trigger twice.

"Come again another day?" Asha asked, joining the Saints' leader as she looked down at Mr. X's dead form.

"You know. 'Rain, rain go away.' I dunno. Everything seems more clever when you're killing someone."

Asha Odekar and Rain Franklin looked at each other. The spy considered her for a moment and then nodded. Whatever animosity had once existed between them was dead with Mr. X. "You ready to get out of here or what?"

Matt greeted Rain with a smile as she awoke from the simulation.

"What?" She asked as she stepped out of the sleeper chamber.

Miller stood up from the console and walked around to Rain. He extended one hand out and gripped hers. He shook the President's hand once and released it.

The woman raised one eyebrow. "What the hell was that for, Matt?"

Miller had practiced the speech in his head. It wasn't anything fancy, but it would do. "I just wanted to formally thank you for saving Asha. She means a great deal to me as my companion and colleague."

Rain said nothing. She just stood looking at him, her eye brow still raised. Miller was just beginning to wonder if he should have said something more gallant when Rain suddenly threw her arms around him and brought her lips crashing down onto his.

A sensation like liquid fire erupted throughout Matt's body. His mouth and limbs were melting. His thoughts fled from him, longing to get lost in the thousand messages of pleasure his brain began shouting loudly to the rest of his body. It was a cacophony, no a symphony, of sugary delight. When it was over, Matt was distantly aware of his heart hammering in his ears. He was locked in Rain's impossibly alluring gaze. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck. Thoughts were slow to return to him. When they did, they were honey sweet with longing.

"What the hell was that for?" He found himself repeating Rain's question.

Rain curved her lips upwards in a Chesire cat grin. "I told you I had something for you."


	15. A Look into the Past

Matt was walking on clouds; _waltzing_ across them. After the kiss, he was filled with such rapture that nothing, not even the threat of the Zin, could ruin his spirits. He glided, as in a dream, through the day.

Extracting Asha was relatively painless. Pierce Washington proved a far more capable combat partner than Matt had been during his own rescue. When they reached Asha, the three were nigh unbeatable. The Zin were left much the worse for wear.

Matt was waiting for Asha when the British spy first boarded S.S. Freckle Bitch's. At first, Odekar only gave him a steady look and smiled. "Matthew." She said calmly.

"Asha." Miller returned the greeting. Then all at once, Asha embraced him in a bear hug, squeezing the air out of him with little effort.

"It's good to see you, too, Asha." He wheezed. The spy released him and held him at arm's length.

"Let me get a good look at you." She said, her keen eyes traveling up and down his frame. Matt wasn't sure what she was looking for, perhaps injuries? At last she seemed satisfied and smiled warmly. "They've not been savage to you, have they?"

Matt understood the question, though he had nearly forgotten the sentiment behind it that he had once shared. He had lived with the Saints, as one of them, for weeks now. Cohabitation in close quarters and the fight against the Zin had bonded the former enemies in a way Matt would not have thought possible years ago. The memory of Rain's lips sprung fresh to mind. "No, not savage at all." He said and flashed a secretly triumphant grin.

Asha did not waste time in making herself at home. She explored every nook and cranny of the vessel, even making detailed schematics of the deck layouts. Within a few days, she had prepared reports on the ship's liabilities and assets. The spy also inventoried the supplies and rations, making suggestions on how to increase their sustainability. But most of all, she planned attacks on the Zin.

Matt was relieved to have his partner on board and safe. It brought him peace of mind to see her walking about the decks of the ship. Unfortunately, it also presented its own set of challenges. Asha Odekar was extremely perceptive. The spy excelled in all aspects of reconnaissance and observation. So it was only a matter of time before she noticed the looks Matt and the President exchanged, or the way the two tended to brush against each other as they passed when there was room to spare on the catwalks.

It was a logical next step for her to gather intelligence from the remaining crew. She weighed her options.

Kenzi Kenzington, the hacker, had worked with the Saints for over five years. Kenzi's psychological profile tended toward paranoia and antisocial behavior. Coupled with her training as a former FBI agent, Kenzington could prove to be resistant to methods of interrogation. Asha knew Kenzington had an extreme aversion to Matt; any information she _did _supply may be tainted with this bias.

Odekar moved on to CID. The machine seemed to be a wealth of information, but was more interested in Asha's measurements than assisting her in collecting data.

Keith David was Rain's Vice President. What little information he had was limited to the years in office the two had shared. He spoke of Camp David, the campaign trail, and speaking to Congress on the President's behalf. Asha would need to go back further to get what she sought.

That left Pierce Washington. Rain Franklin's long-time Lieutenant, Pierce Washington's knowledge of the Saints stretched back to the beginning, or very nearly. Close observation revealed the casual friendship the two Saints enjoyed. Asha had often caught them singing 80's rock ballads in the viewing deck or debating which value meal from Freckle Bitch's was the most delectable.

Asha laid out her plan carefully. First, isolate the target. Second, begin interrogation methods. Do not allow target to discover purpose.

She approached him one evening as Pierce was reorganizing the recreation room. The room had changed drastically in appearance since the Lieutenant had taken over it. Somehow, the man had managed to acquire horrendously tacky "art" that he had taken great pleasure in hanging from the walls. Above the pool table was a newly made paper mache shark that Asha could only speculate about. Pierce had also repurposed several light strands to spell out the ship's name in purple garishness.

As she entered, he was leaning over the pool table, stick in hand. Asha slunk towards him and watched him strike the cue ball before she made her presence known. It was a scratch.

Odekar cleared her throat. Pierce positively leapt out of his skin. The tall man turned around and glared at her. "Woman," he said. "Don't you know not to sneak up a playa? Ain't gonna be responsible for what happens."

Asha merely smiled at him. Pierce reached up to smooth his collared space suit down, perhaps to recover from the shock. "You lookin' for Matt?" He asked after a moment.

"No." Asha said primly as she looked around for some place to sit. She settled on the ghastly upholstered couch in the corner. "I'm here to speak to you."

Pierce whistled and turned back to his pool game. From her location, Asha could not see the top of the table, but the balls clinked pleasantly. "Go ahead girl." He said without turning around.

"I couldn't help but notice Matthew and your Boss have been chummy lately." Asha commented, keeping her voice purposely casual.

The pool balls clicked again. "Oh you noticed too?" Pierce's rich voice responded.

"At least it's good that they're getting along." Odekar mused, her voice uncharacteristically whimsical. "We don't need to be fighting amongst ourselves with the Zin on our heels."

Pierce let out a hearty guffaw. "Oh, fighting ain't what we gotta worry about. Boss always did have a thing for men with accents."

Asha leaned forward in excitement. Now they were getting somewhere. "Is that so?" She asked.

"Oh yeah. Her and Carlos were tight. Until things went down." The pool balls skidded across the green felt surface.

"Carlos, is that another Saint? What happened to him?" Odekar queried.

Pierce's arm halted midway between another shot. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. Had she betrayed too much interest? He fixed a pair of chocolate brown eyes on her; his expression was almost sad. He flicked his gaze to the corridor leading into the recreation room. When the silence outside satisfied him, he began.

"Like I said, things went down. Carlos got in deep with the wrong crowd. Rival gang took him, drug him behind a car. When Boss found him, wasn't much left. Had to put him down."

Asha opened her mouth and then closed it again. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from Pierce, but this far exceeded it. "That.. sounds rough." She conceded after a moment.

"Yeah. " Pierce set the pool stick aside and turned fully to face her. He leaned his rail thin frame against the pool table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Boss wasn't the same after that."

Odekar mirrored his expression, trying to draw out more information. "She went hard?"

Pierce moved his lips off to one side of his mouth in a thoughtful frown. "Nah." He said. "Went soft."

One evening, Miller and Rain were in the cargo bay together. Matt lay in his usual spot on the couch bed while Rain busied herself doing a series of exhausting looking one-handed pushups. Matt watched her from his vantage point.

The memory of her lips burned a hole in his mind. It was beginning to drive him mad, this cat and mouse game. Rain had made a habit of making advances on him and avoiding resolution. Neither had put to words yet the moment that passed between them; there had not been much time after Asha had joined them. The spy kept the crew busy at odd hours with rigorous training regiments and security drills. For someone who claimed they did not like games, Rain certainly played them well.

"You like what you see?" The President broke the silence, pausing at the top of a pushup. She had noticed that Matt had been watching her. She raised her eyes to gauge his response.

The hacker's insides stirred in nervous excitement. He knew that the President valued directness, so he spoke plainly. "It beats the alternative."

"Which is?" She executed another push up, breathing hard from the exertion.

Matt lifted one shoulder upwards as he watched her. "Oh, being stuck on a ship alone with people who hate me."

A smile flitted over Rain's lips. She pushed herself easily off the ground and rocked back onto her heels. "Who says I don't hate you?"

Miller's nerves vibrated like the strings of a harp. To give himself courage, he recalled the image of the two of them on the couch. It was now or never. "The kiss you gave me the other night. You slept over." He paused to take a shaky breath. "You kept my star pin."

Rain Franklin's face did not waver. "Damn. I suppose I _did _hire you for your brains."

Matt steeled himself. Maybe he was pushing his luck, but he was tired of playing coy. "You care about me." He said and flicked his blue eyes towards her.

The President tilted her head slightly to the right. Her gaze was intense. "According to Asha, I've never cared about anyone in my life. You buy that?" In one smooth motion, she rose to her feet and began to approach the couch where he lay.

Matt considered the question for a moment. The woman certainly had been a source of bewilderment. "I think," he picked his words carefully. "Someone who doesn't care wouldn't try and hide something like that star."

Rain sat down at the edge of the couch and, for the first time, her face betrayed her embarrassment. It lasted for only a moment; her freckled cheeks were tinged with a hint of rose. The expression was gone as quickly as it had come; soon it was chased with a confident smile. Matt could not help but wonder how sincere it was. "I always did like a smart man." She said with a laugh that sounded forced.

Matt sat up on one elbow. With his other hand, he reached out and touched a strand of Rain's hair. It wasn't as he had imagined it; not quite as smooth as hair is often described. Still, it was soft, like a wool sweater. The purple color was just beginning to fade, leaving roots of burnished ebony. It suited her. "Why did you?" He asked, winding the strand through his fingers.

The President scoffed indelicately. For once, she appeared to be the panicked one. "Don't start getting emotional on me, Matt." She attempted to swat him away.

Matt arrested her hand midway. "Why keep the star?" He asked persistently. There was determination in his blue eyes. He was starting to understand the Boss better. She was more than comfortable with crossing physical boundaries, but emotional connections made her nervous. Or, rather, admitting there was one.

The two locked eyes. He was still holding her hand in his. "I dunno, Matt." She admitted at last. "When we got rid of Killbane, the crew thought it would be a good idea to go through the Syndicate's stuff. You know, disassemble the assets."

Matt ran his thumb along her hand. Rain was not a delicate woman; her hands bore the evidence of years of manual labor and combat. He traced a prominent scar along her knuckles, undoubtedly where she had delivered a devastating blow to an errant jawline.

"You left some stuff upstairs." She said with a shrug, her embarrassment increasing.

"So you found my star pin, took it back to your crib and hid it where you thought no one would look." As he spoke, Matt used his free hand to reach up and grip Rain's chin. Despite her paltry explanation, he had learned more from her reluctance and awkwardness than if she had made charts for him. He was done with Rain making all the advances.

"Well, when you put it that way-" She began, but was interrupted when Matt pulled her chin forward and kissed her.

The feeling of euphoria that flooded Matt's body was instantaneous. His stomach did its best imitation of a high wire act as elation flooded every pore of his body. He pulled away before he would have liked.

Rain Franklin's eyes were wide; her expression easy to read. Fire burned behind that gaze. Great, leaping flames. Matt had the feeling that if he got close enough, he would be consumed. And he would enjoy every minute of it.


End file.
